OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


HESTER  BLAIR 


THE  ROMANCE  OF 
A  COUNTRY  GIRL 


With  Illustrations  by 
CHARLES  H.  STEPHENS 


BOSTON 

C.  M.  Clark  Publishing  Company 
1902 


Copyright,  1902,  by 

C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


Entered  at  Stationers'  HaU,  London, 
Foreign  copyrights  secured. 


Bights  of  Translation,  Public  Reading 
and  Dramatization  reserved. 


PRESSWORK  BY 
S.  J.  PARKHILL  &  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


To  My  Sister 


21 £8680 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Love  wanders  far  afield 1 

II.  Slack's  recreant  wooing- 21 

III.  Love's  champion: — "Then  it's  war?" 33 

IV.  "  My  love,  my  only  love,  my  wife!  " 43 

V.  A  secret  that  a  little  child  can  keep 57 

VI.  "Ho,  Slacky!     Yer  don't  say  yer  start  ter- 

morrer  ?  " 68 

VII.  Hester  hears  of  Slack's  pleasantries  with  the 

coachman 82 

VIII.  Mrs.  Pendleton:    "  And  they  madly  love  each 

other!  " 95 

IX.  The  reception 106 

X.  "  My  promise!     Just  Heaven,  point  me  the 

way !  " 122 

XI.  The  day  following  Featherly's  death 136 

XII.  Slack's  return  to  Norton 144 

XIII.  Sally  Pitts  asks  questions  of  Slack 155 

XIV.  Love  grows  not  less  by  waiting 166 

XV.  "  I  am  the  daughter  of  Henry  Blair  " 178 

XVI.  Mrs.  St.  Just  and  Mrs.  Houseman  exchange 

confidences 189 

XVII.  In  the  church.    "I  am  the  country  lover". .  202 
v 


vi  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVIII.  Slack  plans  a  trip  into  the  woods  for  Fenton  214 

XIX.  Fenton's  plans  miscarry 224 

XX.  Hester's  homecoming 235 

XXI.  Millie  speaks  her  mind 247 

XXII.  Betty  McDonald's  tangled  love  affairs 259 

XXIII.  Millie  answers  Slack  for  the  999th  time 268 

XXIV.  John  fights  for  the  woman  he  loves 278 

XXV.  John's  recovery 290 

XXVI.  "  It  is  better  that  you  forget " 298 

XXVII.  The  morning  of  the  27th 309 

XXVIII.  "  'Twill  remind  me  how  well  I  loved  you"..  320 

XXIX.  Love's  reward..  331 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  John  Carey  approached  the  house ;  and 
pausing,  looked  into  the  window."       Page  31. 

"  At  length  the  import  of  what  was  taking 
place  began  to  dawn  upon  her."  Page  65. 

"The  Butler  recognized  her  at  a  glance." 

Page  141. 

"It  is  a  lie!"  Page  205. 

"  It    was  no  time  for  talk — action,  imme- 
diate action — was  necessary."  Page  289. 

"I — I  cannot  say."  Page  345. 


PREFACE 

A  PREFACE  to  an  author's  first  work  might,  it  seems  to  me, 
be  deemed  an  impertinence.  However,  new  authors, 
young  or  old  in  years,  if  not  in  judgment,  have  a  last  word 
to  say;  and,  in  my  opinion,  most  improperly  say  it  in  the  form 
of  an  introduction  to  their  work.  It  were  better,  perhaps, 
with  justice  to  himself  and  his  readers,  that  his  foreword  embody 
an  apology.  What  right  has  he  to  presume  on  the  reader's  pa- 
tience or  good- nature  ?  Most  assuredly,  none;  and  yet — and 
yet  I  have  a  story  to  tell.  It  is  a  simple  tale,  as  life  is  simple, 
yet  running  through  it,  the  veins,  eddies,  and  undercurrents  that 
make  our  lives  more  or  less  complex.  Each  of  us  knows  a  Hes- 
ter, a  John  Gary  or  a  Slack.  They  are  of  the  common,  every- 
day sort  of  people.  I  have  endeavored  to  paint  them  as  they 
are — of  flesh  and  blood.  This  is  a  plain  tale  of  love,  of  joy,  of 
suffering.  However,  it  may  be  I  have  failed  in  the  telling. 
Perhaps  I  have  told  too  little,  perhaps  too  much;  yet — still — 

THE  AUTHOR. 

44  Broadway   New  York  City. 

January  1st,  1902. 


HESTER  BLAIR 

CHAPTER  I 

LOVE   WANDERS   FAR   AFIELD 

Vain  Cupid  decked  with  bow  and  shield 

Stole  forth,  for  passion's  flame  burned  low. 
Unwary,  wandering  far  afield, 

Love's  embers  died  into  a  glow. 
And  love,  unguarded,  slumbered  on; 

Returning,  Cupid  smiling  spake: 
Thy  cavalier  comes  anon, 

Arise  to  meet  him,  love,  awake. 

LACK  DORKINS !  " 

A  querulous  voice  broke  the  summer 
stillness.  The  dying  tones  were  drowned 
by  the  suppressed  laughter  of  a  group  of  fisher- 
men at  work  mending  fishing  nets  in  front  of  the 
Blair  homestead.  Captain  Edwards,  one  of  the 
number,  raising  his  hand  to  command  silence, 
answered, — 
"Yes,  Millie!" 

A  laugh  followed  the  captain's  attempt  at 
mimicry.  Seth  Binks'  voice  interrupted  the 
merriment  with: 

"-Slack'll  hev  ter  take  it." 
"  Yer  kin  bet  he  will !  "  responded  the  captain, 
as  he  resumed  his  work. 

1 


2  Hester  Blair 

Again  the  voice  from  within  the  house  caused 
a  momentary  suspension  of  work. 

"  Slack  Dorkins,  how  much  longer  yer  goin' 
ter  keep  th'  yard  cluttered  up  with  them  pesky 
fishin'  nets?  " 

The  captain's  unmusical  voice  sent  back  the 
reply  :  "  Most  finished,  Millie." 

A  second  wave  of  merriment  rewarded  the  cap- 
tain's effort,  gradually  dying  into  a  suppressed 
chuckle.  He  stood  up,  stretched  himself  lazily, 
and,  walking  to  the  side  of  the  house,  swept  the 
Bay  and  harbor  of  Norton  with  a  keen  eye.  He 
muttered  musingly: 

"What  be  th'  dern  cuss  a  doin'?  What's  a 
keepin'  'im?  " 

Seth  JBinks  ceased  working.  From  his  hand 
which  he  raised  in  the  air,  a  piece  of  rope  dan- 
gled. An  expression  of  amused  disapproval  over- 
spread his  kindly,  weatherbeaten  features.  He 
looked  about  at  the  uncouth,  roughly-garbed  fish- 
ermen, and  his  hand  came  down  on  his  knee  with 
resounding  vehemence.  He  blurted  out: 

"  What  d'yer  s'pose  the  big  lubber  did  yest'- 
dey?  " 

"  Dun  know,"  drawlingly  ejaculated  one  of  the 
listeners,  "  What?  " 

"  Refused  a  ten-dollar  note  ter  take  a  party 
outside  sailin'."  Joe  looked  his  disgust, 

"  No  !  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  fishermen  doubt- 


"  Yes  he  did,"  continued  Joe,  "  sed  he  was  en- 


Love  Wanders  Far  Afield  3 

gaged,  'n>  what  d'yer  think  the  big  lout  hed  ter 
do?" 

"  Court  Millie,"  rejoined  Seth,  "  Thet's  what 
he's  bin  a  doin'  the  most  of  his  time  for  the  past 
twenty  years." 

"  No,"  retorted  Joe  warmly,  "  Ther'd  be  some 
sense  even  in  courtin'  a  woman  as  won't  be 
courted.  He  hed  ter  fix  a  flower-bed  fer  Hester 
and  Ethy.  What  d'yer  think  er  thet?  " 

Mixed  exclamations  of  disapproval  from  the 
fishermen,  and  a  contemptuous  grunt  from  Cap- 
tain Edwards,  voiced  their  opinion  as  between 
a  ten-dollar  note  and  fixing  a  flower-bed. 

"  Slack  must  be  crazy ! "  volunteered  one  of 
the  fishermen. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Binks,  "  crazy  as  a  coot ;  or 
p'r'haps  he's  love-mad ;  but  if  it's  er  th'  kind  thet 
'f ects  th'  appetite,  then  Slacky  ain't  mad ;  fer  he 
kin  eat  more'n  any  three  men  in  th'  county." 

"  All's  I've  got  ter  say,"  rejoined  Captain  Ed- 
wards warmly,  "  's  thet  ef  I  wer'  Slacky,  Millie 
would  marry  me,  or  she  wouldn't.  I'd  hev  it  set- 
tled one  way  or  t'other." 

"  Hev  yer  say  out,"  Binks  replied.  "  Yer  don't 
hev  it  of'n  when  yer  at  home." 

Captain  Edwards  turned  on  him  sharply. 
"  What  do  yer  mean?  " 

"  O,  nothin',"  Binks  suavely  answered.  A 
suppressed  chuckle  developed  into  a  roar  of 
laughter,  and  the  captain  glared  defiantly. 

It  was  well  known  to  everyone  in  the  village 


4  Hester  Blair 

of  Norton,  that  the  captain's  cloak  of  authority 
was  surrendered  when  he  entered  his  own  home. 
His  wife  ruled  him  with  an  iron  hand,  unsoft- 
ened  by  glove  or  time ;  and  the  man  who  had  done 
battle  with  many  a  gale,  who  was  absolutely 
without  fear  when  away  from  home,  quailed  be- 
fore her.  Brusque,  stern,  and  unyielding  in  his 
intercourse  with  men,  he  bowed  before  her  su- 
perior will.  She  was  known  among  the  villagers 
as  the  "  Commodore,"  and  answered  to  the  name 
with  becoming  condescension. 

The  awkward  silence  that  followed  was  inter- 
rupted by  Portuguese  Joe. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  ther'  wer'  more  mad 
ones  like  Slacky." 

Sally  Pitts,  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  fisher- 
men, came  from  the  house,  and  stood  upon  the 
porch.  Hearing  Slack's  name  mentioned,  she  re- 
mained motionless,  in  a  listening  attitude. 

Pen  and  ink  cannot  do  justice  to  Sally  Pitts : 
hers  was  the  beauty  of  the  heart,  of  the  mind,  of 
the  soul.  She  was  slightly  deformed,  and  walked 
with  a  perceptible  limp;  and  her  pointed  chin, 
her  abnormally  high  forehead  and  marked  pallor, 
made  her  look  older  than  she  really  was.  Her 
eyes,  however,  were  those  of  a  child  of  her  age, 
— confidingly  gentle,  and  sympathetic  in  expres- 
sion. Living  alone  with  her  father,  who  was 
stern  to  the  verge  of  brutality,  her  life  was  inex- 
pressibly dreary.  Not  that  she  was  without 
friends.  To  every  fisherman  in  the  village  she 


Love  Wanders  Far  Afield  5 

was  related  by  ties  of  love, — little  sister  and  good 
fairy  to  all.  No  word  of  complaint  was  she  ever 
heard  to  utter;  and  her  father's  harsh  treatment 
was  only  suspected,  not  known.  She  was  a  con- 
stant visitor  at  the  home  of  the  Blairs,  but  her 
visits  were  marred  by  her  father's  unreasoning 
jealousy.  Through  drink,  he  had  descended  the 
social  ladder,  to  that  level  where  respectability 
gives  place  to  sullen  indifference; — where  imag- 
ination pictures  every  hand  as  turned  against 
him,  in  an  effort  to  make  complete  his  degrada- 
tion. 

Sally  walked  slowly  to  where  Joe  was  sitting, 
and,  as  he  continued,  gently  placed  one  of  her 
white,  almost  bloodless  hands,  on  his  shoulder. 

"  When  Bill  Blake  was  knocked  overboard  by 
the  boom  of  his  boat  in's  rough  weather's  I  wer* 
ever  out  in,  didn't  Slack  jump  in  an'  pull  'im 
aboard,  with  the  chances  a  thousan'  t'one  he'd 
drown  hisself  ?  " 

Sally  answered  with  suppressed  excitement, 
"  Yes." 

"  An',"  continued  Joe,  "  when  Bill  come  to, 
an'  tried  ter  thank  Slacky,  what  d'yer  s'pose  th' 
dern  cuss  sed?" 

"  What  did  he  say?  "  asked  Sally  eagerly. 

"  Ha !  Ha  !  Ha  !  "  roared  Joe,  hi*  sides  shaking 
with  laugh  ter,  "  he  sed, — ha,  ha,  ha, — he  told  Bill 
ef  he'd  known  he'd  made  seen  a  dern  fuss  'bout 
it,  he'd  a  let  'im  drown." 

Sally  joined  in  the  laughter,  then  plaintively : 


6  Hester  Blair 

"  O,  isn't  Slacky  brave, — how  I  wish  I  could 
do  something  for  him." 

Sam  Pitts  rose  from  his  seat  and  walked 
towards  his  daughter. 

"  So  yer^d  like  to  do  somethin'  fer  Slack,  would 
yer?  S'pose  yer  begin  by  doin'  somethin'  fer  me. 
Ain't  I  th'  fust  thet's  got  a  right  ter  yer?  Ain't 
yer  my  darter?  And  a  dern  pretty  one  yer  air! 
Didn't  I  tell  yer  ter  stay  at  home  an'  mend  my 
oil-skin  coat?  "  He  grasped  Sally  by  the  shoulder 
and  shook  her  roughly. 

"  I  did  mend  it,  Dad,"  she  faltered,  "  I  came 
here  because  Hester  sent  for  me." 

A  simultaneous  movement  was  made  by  the 
fishermen.  Captain  Edwards  rose  threateningly, 
and  turned  to  Sam. 

"  Hold  on  ther',  yer  big  lubber,  leave  'er 
alone ! " 

Pitts  turned  on  him  angrily. 

"  What's  it  ter  you !  She's  my  gal,  an'  I  don't 
want  'er  up  here,  where  every  one's  a  coddlin' 
'er.  By'n  by,  with  'er  fine  clothes,  an*  'er  fine 
airs,  she  won't  know  'er  own  father." 

Pitts  released  Sally  and  regarded  her  threat- 
eningly. 

At  that  moment  Slack  Dorkins  approached  by 
the  path  that  led  from  the  village.  He  was  a 
typical  Yankee,  tall  and  muscular.  His  Chris- 
tian name  was  Hiram,  but  from  childhood  he  had 
always  been  known  by  the  name  of  Slack, — 


Love  Wanders  Far  Afield  7 

a  name  given  him  because  of  his  habitual  untidi- 
ness. His  hair,  in  a  chronic  state  of  disorder, 
stood  out  in  all  directions;  his  garments  hung 
loosely  upon  his  angular  form,  and  his  general 
air  was  that  of  a  "  ne'er-do-well."  But  in  his  case 
appearances  belied  the  man;  for  he  was  coura- 
geous to  the  verge  of  daring,  tender  as  a  woman, 
and  true  to  his  friends.  His  patience  could  be 
measured  by  his  love  for  Millie,  who,  for  the  past 
twenty  years  had  been  the  housekeeper  in  the 
Blair  family.  For  that  length  of  time  he  had 
loved  her ;  but  from  her  he  received  little  encour- 
agement and  scant  courtesy:  but  such  affection- 
ate recognition  as  she  grudgingly  bestowed  upon 
him,  lightened  his  labors,  and  made  glad  the 
heart  of  this  solitary  man.  Her  daily  lectures 
on  the  sin  of  untidiness,  he  received  with  appro- 
priate humility,  but  with  concealed  delight.  So 
long  as  he  could  be  near  her,  and  love  her  in  his 
blind,  unwavering  way,  he  was  content. 

After  the  death  of  Henry  Blair,  Slack  had 
taken  upon  himself,  as  his  right,  the  supervision 
of  the  household.  The  two  daughters  of  Henry 
Blair,  Hester  and  Ethel,  when  left  alone  had 
turned,  as  if  by  instinct,  to  Slack.  He  asked  for 
no  confidences,  he  gave  no  advice,  but  assumed 
all  responsibility;  and  under  his  personal  guid- 
ance, things  went  on  as  before.  It  was  believed  up 
to  the  day  of  his  death,  that  Henry  Blair  was 
wealthy.  What  the  true  condition  of  his  affairs 


8  Hester  Blair 

were,  none  knew  but  Slack ;  and  he  was  not  of  a 
communicative  nature,  when  the  subject  con- 
cerned the  members  of  the  Blair  household. 

As  Slack  stood  before  the  enraged  Pitts,  he 
took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance.  He  was  not 
pleased.  He  laid  his  hand  caressingly  on  Sally's 
head,  and  spoke  drawlingly,  as  was  his  cus- 
tom. 

"  Sally,  go  inter  th'  house,  Millie's  bin  a  lookin' 
fer  yer  all  day." 

When  Sally  was  out  of  hearing,  he  approached 
Sam  and  touched  him  on  the  shoulder.  Pitts 
turned,  and  regarded  him  with  contemptuous 
indifference.  Slack's  drawl,  as  he  spoke,  was 
seemingly  accentuated.  Under  undue  excite- 
ment or  provocation,  he  fell  into  this  method  of 
delivery,  and  his  words  came  in  a  slow,  measured 
monotone, — a  pause  after  each  word.  Seldom 
heard,  the  tone  of  his  voice  boded  no  good,  and 
the  fishermen  looked  up  apprehensively. 

"  Sam,  yer  be  a  bigger  man,  an'  meybe  a 
stronger  man  then  I  be ;  an'  th'  next  time  yer  lay 
a  finger  on  Sally,  I'll  give  yer  a  chance  ter  prove 
it." 

"  What  der  yer  mean?  "  asked  Pitts  doggedly. 

Slack  looked  him  steadily  in  the  eyes,  then 
answered : 

"  I  mean  jest  this :  that  the  next  time  yer  strike 
thet  gal  er  yourn,  ef  yer  don't  lick  me,  I'll  give 
yer  th'  dernest  threshin'  yer  ever  hed." 

Pitts  muttered  sullenly : 


Love  Wanders  Far  Afield  9 

"  Yer'd  better  mind  yer  own  business,  an'  don't 
meddle  with  what  don't  consarn  yer." 

Slack  picked  up  a  fishing  net  and  critically  ex- 
amined it.  He  spoke  quietly — his  eyes  on  the  net. 

"  I've  sed  all  I'm  goin'  ter  say,  Sam,  only  this 
— remember  it!  Boys,"  he  said,  turning  to  the 
others,  "  We'll  hev  ter  finish  th'  nets  down  ter  the 
wharf ;  the  gals  and  the  summer  folks  '11  be  back 
soon."  His  habitual  good-nature  returning,  he 
laughed  softly,  then  turned  to  Captain  Edwards. 

"  Yer'd  better  stay  an'  see  the  widder,  Captain ; 
she  was  askin'  fer  yer."  A  roar  of  laughter 
greeted  this  intelligence.  Slack  continued: 
"  John  seys  we  kin  finish  th'  nets  on  th'  old 
wharf." 

Captain  Edwards  looked  up.  "  John's  goin' 
away,  ain't  he?  "  he  asked. 

"  D'n  know  nothin'  'bout  John's  business.  It 
takes  pretty  much  all  my  spare  time  ter  'tend  ter 
my  own." 

"  Well,  I  heard  so." 

"  Did  yer?  "  Slack's  aggravating  unconcern 
did  not  please  the  doughty  captain,  who  an- 
swered : 

"  Yes,  an'  they  say  as  how  Hester  an'  Ethy  be 
a  goin'  'way  this  Pall ;  an'  th'  old  place's  ter  be 
kept  shet  up." 

Slack  again  examined  the  nets  without  mani- 
festing any  marked  degree  of  interest. 

"  Em !  "  he  drawled,  "  'pears  ter  me  yer  hear 
all  there's  a  goin'  on.  Eny  more?  " 


io  Hester  Blair 

"  Well  I  know  what's  goin'  on,  I  kin  tell  yer. 
I  know  what's  what.  Mr.  Featherly's  gettin' 
pretty  sweet  on  Hester.  Thet's  one  thing  I 
know." 

The  interest  awakened  spurred  the  captain  on. 

"  Hevn't  I  seed  'em  a  walkin'  on  the  beach 
night  arter  night,  him  a  talkin'  ernest  like,  an' 
she  a  lookin'  up  inter  his  face,  an'  not  seemin' 
to  keer  whether  th'  wer'  any  one  else  in  th'  world 
or  no?  Yer  can't  tell  me  thet  don't  mean  so' thin'." 

Captain  Edwards  was  treading  on  dangerous 
ground.  Slack's  habitual  expression  of  good 
nature  gave  place  to  an  ominous  scowl.  His 
drawl  as  he  answered  was  not  reassuring. 

"  Well,  thet  don't  go  ter  prove  nothin'.  Hes- 
ter hes  as  good  right  ter  walk  on  th'  beach  as 
other  folks,  an'  she  couldn't  go  'long  with  a  bet- 
ter man  'n  Mr.  Featherly.  Es  far  as  I  know 
therms  no  law  agin'  her  walkin'  on  the  beach  ef 
she  be  so  disposed." 

"  No  more  ther>  ben't  ef  Mr.  Featherly  be  hon- 
est with  er." 

Still  slower  and  more  distinct  came  the  an- 
swer. 

"  She  be  as  good  as  he.  She  hev  th'  finest  edi- 
cation  hereabouts.  'Lowin'  the  ole  man  Blair 
didn't  leave  no  money,  she's  able  ter  take  keer  of 
herself,  I  do  be  a  thinkin'." 

The  captain  nodded  his  head  doubtingly. 

"  Mebby,  mebby.  They  say  as  how  Hessie's  a 
goin'  ter  New  York,  an'  it  'pears  ter  me  thet's  no 


Love  Wanders  Far  Afield  1 1 

place  fer  a  young  gal  ter  go  alone;  leastwise  no 
gal  er  mine  should  go  ther." 

"How  der  yer  know  thet,  Captain?"  de- 
manded Seth  Binks. 

With  a  knowing  wink  Captain  Edwards  re- 
plied, "  O,  I  catch  on  ter  things." 

"  Yer  catch  on  ter  too  dern  much,"  drawled 
Slack.  "  It'll  pull  yer  under  some  time." 

"  P'rhaps  'twill.  All  I've  got  ter  say,  it's  a 
dern  fool  thing  ter  do,  anyhow,  an' "  continued 
the  captain  with  emphasis,  "  ef  th'  ole  man  wer' 
alive,  it  wouldn't  be  did." 

"  Well,  bein'  as  how^  th'  ole  man  hesn't  ben 
'live  these  two  years,  he  ain't  'tall  likely  ter  in- 
terfere, an' " — Slack's  words  came  with  meas- 
ured distinctness, — "  it's  my  'pinion,  when  Hes- 
ter wants  eny  'dvice  from  some  folks  she'll  ask  it 
of  'em." 

Captain  Edwards  recognized  the  note  of  warn- 
ing in  Slack's  voice.  He  answered  in  a  concilia- 
tory tone. 

"  Yer  needn't  git  so  dern  cranky  'bout  it, 
Slacky." 

Slack  fumbled  the  nets  nervously;  he  was  not 
wholly  appeased.  A  tender  spot  was  touched 
when  Hester  or  John  Gary  was  the  subject  of 
remark  or  gossip.  He  was  not  easily  aroused  to 
anger,  and  those  who  knew  him  well,  took  care 
not  to  invite  his  displeasure.  During  the  greater 
part  of  the  colloquy  Slack  had  been  examining 
the  fishing  nets.  He  arose  and  turned  slowly. 


12  Hester  Blair 

His  voice  was  tempered  with  an  honest  regard 
for  the  man  whom  he  addressed. 

"  Captain,  we've  ben  friends  fer  th'  past  twenty 
er  more  years,  an'  I  don't  want  ter  break  witb 
yer  now;  but  I  got  this  ter  say  ter  yer: — don't 
discuss  what  consarns  the  Blair  gals  or  John. 
What's  ther  business  is  ther  business,  an'  don't 
consarn  you.  I'm  no  quarreling  man,  but  Cap- 
tain, it'll  be  better  fer  you  an'  fer  me,  ef  yer 
leave  'em  alone." 

He  turned  to  the  listening  group. 

"  Boys,"  he  said  quietly,  "  take  th'  nets  down 
ter  th'  wharf  an'  we'll  finish  'em  ther." 

The  fishermen  gathered  the  nets  together  and 
walked  slowly  down  the  hill  to  the  wharf.  Slack 
stood  at  the  edge  of  the  path  looking  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  village.  Captain  Edwards  was 
the  last  to  leave,  and,  as  he  passed  Slack,  his 
hand  came  down  on  the  fisherman's  shoulder 
with  resounding  force.  Neither  spoke,  but  they 
both  understood : — their  life  friendship  was  still 
intact 

Slack  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  house.  He 
knew  only  too  well,  that  what  the  captain  had 
said  was,  for  the  most  part,  true.  It  was  no  news 
to  him ;  and  his  heart  was  heavy  with  forebodings 
that  he  could  not  understand,  much  less  explain. 

Since  the  death  of  her  father,  Hester  Blair 
recognized  the  necessity  of  earning  a  living  for 
herself  and  her  younger  sister,  Ethel.  The  home- 
stead being  large,  contributed  to  this  end;  and 


Love  Wanders  Far  Afield  13 

for  the  past  two  summers  the  house  had  been 
filled  with  summer  boarders.  People  in  search 
of  health  and  quiet,  found  here  what  they  de- 
sired; but  they  brought  with  them  the  atmos- 
phere of  city  life,  that  upset  the  homely,  tradi- 
tional customs  of  the  household.  Fine  airs  did 
not  appeal  to  the  inmates  of  the  Blair  home; 
and  the  intellectual  bearing  of  the  visitors,  and 
their  studied  repression  of  all  natural  emotions 
were,  to  the  Blair  family,  unconvincing.  Millie 
served  them  well — her  reputation  as  a  cook  and 
housekeeper  was  at  stake — but  she  disliked  them 
cordially.  Only  one  of  the  visitors,  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton,  better  known  as  "  The  Widder,"  had,  with 
good-natured  persistence  and  tact,  ingratiated 
herself  into  Millie's  favor.  This  was,  however, 
not  easily  accomplished,  for  it  took  more  than 
soft  words  to  win  Millie's  regard.  The  revenue 
from  these  summer  boarders  insured  Ethel's  edu- 
cation ;  and  this  fact,  more  than  any  other,  molli- 
fied the  obstreperous  housekeeper. 

Slack  paused  in  his  walk  and  leaned  against 
the  back  of  a  summer  bench.  Retrospectively 
he  thought  of  the  changes  that  had  gradually, 
but  surely,  turned  the  current  of  their  lives  into 
unknown  channels.  He  spoke  musingly :  "  They 
all  know  it.  I've  seen  it  fer  a  long  time.  Every- 
thing is  changed  since  these  pesky  people  came 
ter  live  here.  Does  John  know?  Does  he  sus- 
pect? I  hevn't  seen  'im  smile  fer  a  month;  an' 
Gosh !  How  thet  boy  loves  Hessie." 


14  Hester  Blair 

With  elastic  step,  the  subject  of  Slack's  con- 
cern strode  up  the  hill  and  stood  before  the  cogi- 
tating fisherman. 

John  Gary  had  long  since  passed  that  period 
of  life  when  he  could  be  appropriately  desig- 
nated as  "  Thet  boy."  He  was  good  to  look  upon ; 
— tall,  square-shouldered,  square-jawed,  with  a 
frank  open  countenance  that  invited  confidence. 
He  was  of  that  class  of  men  that  women  love, 
and  men  respect.  Nature  had  been  kind  to  John 
Gary,  and  he  looked,  in  the  bright  summer  sun- 
shine, what  he  was — a  true  type  of  American 
manhood. 

Slack's  eyes  flashed  an  honest,  hearty  greeting. 
He  motioned  John  to  a  seat,  and  regarded  him 
with  fatherly  affection. 

"  Well,  John,  why  didn't  yer  go  boatin'  ? " 
Without  waiting  for  an  answer  he  continued: 
"  I  left  th'  folks  down  ter  th'  wharf.  Where  be 
they?  " 

"  They'll  be  home  directly,"  John  answered, 
"  I  saw  them  going  through  the  village." 

"  Why  didn't  yer  go  with  them,  John?  Hessie 
'11  be  disappointed." 

John  remained  silent.  A  serious  light  shone 
in  his  eyes.  His  companion,  meanwhile,  watched 
him  narrowly:  he  guessed  aright  what  was 
passing  through  the  young  lover's  mind — guessed 
that  doubt  had  begun  to  eat  its  way  into  his 
heart.  Neither  spoke  for  a  few  moments;  their 
eyes  met,  and  John  knew  that  the  fears  which 


Love  Wanders  Far  Afield  15 

filled  his  heart,  were  entertained  by  his  fisher- 
man friend.  Millie's  voice  came  as  a  relief. 

"  Slack,  I  say,  Slack  Dorkins,  you  come  right 
in  here ! " 

Slack's  face  assumed  a  rueful  expression,  then 
he  chuckled  quietly. 

"  Now  I'll  hev  ter  take  it  fer  hevin'  the  boys 
'round.  Sit  down,  John,  th'  folks  '11  be  here  in 
a  minute."  He  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  vil- 
lage, then  continued :  "  My  daily  lecture's  due 
'bout  now;  how  do  my  hair  look,  wuss  'n'  com- 
mon? " 

He  removed  his  cap,  disclosing  a  head  of  hair 
wondrous  in  its  wild,  unkempt  disorder.  Surely 
never  did  hair  of  human  being  grow  with  such 
reckless  abandon,  and  with  utter  disregard  of 
order  or  symmetry.  Of  no  known  color  or  col- 
ors— for  there  were  as  many  as  the  "  Famous 
coat," — it  literally  stood  on  end :  a  crowning 
vindication  of  the  appropriateness  of  the  name 
that  had  clung  to  him  since  boyhood, — Slack.  He 
made  a  wry  face  and  entered  the  house. 

John  seated  himself  on  the  summer  bench.  "  I 
am  a  fool,"  he  said  softly,  "  to  believe  that  she 
cares  for  me.  She  has  outgrown  her  childhood 
love.  Young,  beautiful,  she  has  had  social  ad- 
vantages that  I  never  enjoyed.  I  am  not  the 
same  to  her  since  these  visitors  came;  but  I  do 
not  take  kindly  to  their  ways: — they  are  not  of 
my  kind,  and  I  doubt  if  I  could  ever  become  one 
of  them.  Is  the  fault  with  me?  Has  my  life  of 


1 6  Hester  Blair 

work,  the  aims  and  ambitions  that  I  have  lived 
for,  unfitted  me  for  contact  with  the  world? 
Their  talk  depresses  me; — even  in  their  sports 
and  pleasures  I  seem  to  see  an  artificiality  that  I 
despise.  Perhaps  I  should  have  moved  more 
among  them,  and  become  better  acquainted  with 
their  ways.  I  have  been  taught  to  look  upon 
women  with  respect,  while  they — God !  it  makes 
my  blood  boil." 

A  hand  was  laid  lightly  on  his  shoulder,  and 
a  soft,  musical,  cultured  voice  interrupted  his 
revery. 

"  Why  John !  communing  with  yourself !  that's 
misanthropic.  Why  didn't  you  come  boating?  " 

"  Did  you  miss  me,  Hester?  " 

"  How  can  you  ask?  We  all  missed  you." 

"  Did  you  really  care  whether  I  went  or  not?  " 

"  Why,  how  serious  you  are !  You  know  I 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  had  you  with  us. 
And  such  delightful  sailing ! " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you  would  have  been  glad,  as 
you  would  to  have  had  any  of  your  friends, — no 
more,  no  less." 

"  John,  dear,"  she  laughingly  exclaimed,  "  what 
a  rueful  countenance !  you  are  actually  becoming 
morbid.  I  shall  have  to  prescribe  for  you.  Let 
me  see!  boating  every  other  day;  lawn  tennis 
every  evening;  and  an  hour  each  day  spent  in 
the  society  of  Mrs.  Pendleton." 

John  raised  his  hand  protestingly,  "  the  hour 
a  day,"  he  rejoined,  "  would 


Love  Wanders  Far  Afield  17 

"  My  dear  John,  you  are  prejudiced.  She  is 
really  charming;  and  furthermore,  I  believe,  I 
truly  believe,  she  is  fond  of  you." 

"  Heaven  protect  me,"  John  exclaimed,  with  a 
nod  of  his  head.  "  Pendleton's  the  happy  man !  " 

"  Why,  John,  Mr.  Pendleton  is  dead !  " 

"  Exactly !  Happy  man !  But  seriously,  Hes- 
ter, I  came  to-day  to  tell  you  that  I  think  of  go- 
ing away." 

"  Going  away?  "  she  echoed. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  my  uncle  has  offered  me  a 
position  in  his  shipping  office  in  New  York." 

"  I  am  so  glad  for  you,  John." 

"  Wouldn't  you  miss  me?  "  he  asked. 

"  Of  course  we  should  all  miss  you,"  she  an- 
swered. "How  can  you  ask  such  a  question?" 

"  Ah !  Hester,  it  is  more  to  me  now  than  you 
know,  or  can  guess.  We  have  loved  each  other 
since  childhood,  and  leaving  the  old  place  is  not 
the  hardest  to  bear." 

"  Changes  must  come  in  the  lives  of  all  of  us," 
she  replied  sadly.  "  As  you  know,  my  father  left 
us  nothing  but  the  homestead.  Ethel's  education 
must  be  provided  for;  and  it  is  my  intention  to 
go  to  some  large  city  after  the  summer  season, 
and  earn  a  living  for  us  both." 

"  You,  Hester! "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  Fortunately,  I  am  fitted 
for  it  by  education :  my  musical  training  has  been 
most  thorough,  and,  if  work  will  accomplish  any- 
thing, I  shall  succeed." 


1 8  Hester  Blair 

"  Hester,  can  nothing  dissuade  you  from  this 
course?  "  Taking  her  hand  in  both  his  own,  he 
continued,  "  You  do  not  realize  the  difficulties 
to  be  overcome,  the  suffering  to  be  endured,  the 
humiliation,  and  worse  than  all — possible  fail- 
ure." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  sadly,  "  I  ha.ve  considered 
it  all,  again  and  again.  My  decision  is  final." 

"  Hester,  you  know  my  love  for  you.  I  am  now 
in  a  position  to  offer  you  a  home.  Will  you 
listen  to  me?  " 

"  I  cannot,"  she  replied  tremulously,  "  I  can- 
not. Don't  ask  me  for  explanations  that  I  am 
unable  to  give.  I  have  dreaded  this  moment  John 
dear;  but  it  is  best  for  both  of  us  that  we  con- 
tinue as  we  are." 

"  I  have  seen  the  change  come  over  you  Hes- 
ter," he  replied  sadly,  "  but  I  trusted,  with  love's 
blind  faith,  that  our  old  love  story  would  be  re- 
newed. Can  nothing  alter  your  decision?  " 

"  Nothing,"  she  replied,  "  nothing.  I  have  not 
the  love  to  give  you  that  you  deserve.  I  know 
the  fault  is  mine,  but  it  would  be  unfair  to  mis- 
lead you.  Don't  blame  me,  John  dear,  but  I 
cannot." 

The  chatter  of  the  guests  could  be  heard  as 
they  ascended  the  hill. 

"  Will  you  stay  to  supper,  John?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  not  to-night." 

She  entered  the  house.  John  walked  to  the 
bluff,  and  seating  himself  on  a  bench,  looked  out 


Love  Wanders  Far  Afield  19 

over  the  harbor  and  bay.  He  wished  to  be  alone, 
for  the  noisy  mirth  of  the  returning  guests  filled 
him  with  a  spirit  of  resentment. 

Twilight  came,  lingered,  and  deepened  into 
night;  the  lights  flickered  along  the  shore,  like 
restless  spirits  of  the  sea;  and  the  gleam  from 
the  lighthouse  on  the  point,  flashed  intermit- 
tently a  brazen  warning  of  danger  over  the  water. 
The  port  lights  of  a  coasting  vessel,  southbound, 
blinked  a  feeble  defiance,  and  crept  on,  like  a 
will-o-the-wisp,  low  on  the  horizon.  Now  and 
again  a  snatch  of  a  song  from  some  belated  fish- 
ermen rose,  siren-like,  the  splash  of  their  oars 
keeping  time  to  the  tune  of  the  unseen  toilers  of 
the  sea,  their  song  rising  and  falling  in  weird-like 
cadences.  The  thoughts  of  the  silent  listener 
were  delving  in  the  past,  He  was  living  again 
the  days  of  his  boyhood,  when  with  Hester,  they 
explored  every  nook  on  the  rugged  coast,  and 
made  their  first  promises  of  never-ending  love ;  of 
later  years,  when,  with  the  awkward  modesty  of 
young  womanhood  and  manhood,  they  renewed 
their  vows  of  constancy;  of  his  despair,  after 
Hester  had  gone  to  Europe  to  complete  her  edu- 
cation; and  of  the  letters  they  had  exchanged, 
burdened  with  fond  endearments.  Then,  after  a 
lapse  of  time,  of  an  unconscious  something  com- 
ing between  them — a  change  in  the  tone  of  her 
letters ;  of  her  return,  the  same  companion  of  his 
childhood,  yet,  though  he  could  not  explain  it, 
not  the  same.  He  lived  again  through  the  period 


2O  Hester  Blair 

when  the  death  of  Mr.  Blair  brought  them  to- 
gether in  a  closer  bond; — when  he  felt  himself 
the  natural  protector  of  the  woman  whose  love 
was,  to  him,  his  life.  He  dwelt  upon  the  advent 
of  the  strangers  into  the  Blair  home,  which  had 
interrupted  their  daily  intercourse;  and  he  rea- 
lized that  with  them  had  come  the  cloud  that  ob- 
scured his  happiness,  and  robbed  him  of  the  love 
that  had  been  his.  He  had  felt  the  change  that 
had  come  over  Hester;  had  noted  the  growing 
intimacy  between  her  and  Featherly ;  and,  though 
in  his  heart  he  knew  that  hope  was  struggling 
against  his  better  judgment,  he  realized  that  she 
was  lost  to  him. 

The  soft  breeze  fretted  the  surface  of  the  water ; 
the  waves  at  the  foot  of  the  bluff  sent  back  sob- 
bing little  echoes,  and  splashed  complainingly  on 
the  beach,  keeping  time  to  the  sea's  unceasing 
throb.  Solemn,  mysterious  night  closed  in  upon 
the  world,  and  upon  the  hopes  of  the  silent  figure, 
as  he  sat  looking  out  over  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  II 

SLACK'S  RECREANT  WOOING 

I  have  waited  an'  I've  waited,  it  is  nigh  on  twenty  year; 

An'  I've  begged  yer  fer  th'  weddin'  day  ter  name. 
I  have  ast  yer  times  unnumbered;    Now  jest  tell  me  Millie 
dear, 

If  I  must  go  on  a  waitin'  jest  th'  same? 
Yer  a  tellin'  me  ter  day,  what  yer  told  me  years  ago, 

And  my  patience's  worn  as  thin  can  be; 
For  I  love  yer,  an'  I  love  yer,  a  hundred  times  I've  told  yer 
so, 

Tell  me,  sometime  will  yer  answer  yes  ter  me? 

THE  following  day  Millie  and  Slack  stood 
upon  the  porch  watching  the  guests  as  they 
descended  the  hill  to  the  wharf.  The  eyes 
of  the  spinster  followed  them  until  they  disap- 
peared from  view.  She  held  them  in  pitying 
contempt;  and  it  was  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that 
she  saw  them  take  their  departure;  for  it  assured 
her  an  afternoon's  quiet,  and  relieved  her  from 
the  efforts  of  constant  self-restraint  that  she  was 
forced  to  exercise.  When  they  were  about  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  she  could  disguise  her  feel- 
ings, and  it  required  an  effort  on  her  part  to  treat 
them  with  common  courtesy.  Their  patronizing 
familiarity  she  resented ;  and  their  attempts  at  a 
closer  relationship  she  received  with  chilly, 
studied  politeness.  She  protested  that  they 

21 


22  Hester  Blair 

talked  too  much;  that  they  didn't  mean  what 
they  said,  and,  worse  than  all,  that  they  were 
afflicted  with  the  unpardonable  sin  of  never  re- 
turning things  to  their  proper  places;  and  soft 
words,  languidly  spoken,  could  not  appease  the 
methodical  Millie  for  what  she  termed  their 
"  city  bringing  up." 

"  Where  be  they  a  goin'  now?  "  she  asked  with 
a  toss  of  her  head. 

"  Why,  fishin'  o'  course,"  answered  Slack. 
"  They  heven't  caught  'em  all  yet." 

"  Huh !  the  clack  of  their  tongues  would  scare 
a  shark  away !  "  With  withering  scorn  she  con- 
tinued, "  How  they  do  love  ter  talk !  an'  th'  wust 
of  it  is  it  don't  mean  nothin'.  I  wish  they  wer' 
goin'  'way  t'morrer.  No  I  don't !  I  wish  th'  house 
wer'  twice  as  large,  an'  we  had  twice  as  many 
boarders.  The  gals  need  the  money;  but  them 
pesky  people  do  drive  me  nigh  crazy." 

Slack  maintained  a  discreet  silence.  After  a 
pause  he  ventured: 

"  Why  didn't  Hessie  go  'long?  " 

"  D'n  know.  Guess  she  sees  'nough  of  'em  at 
home." 

"Did  Mr.  Featherly  go?" 

"  Don't  think  he  did,"  answered  Millie,  "  thet 
Mr.  Fenton  sent  fer  'im  ter  go  out  ter  his  yacht. 
Sally  Hopkins  tole  me,  thet  her  brother  Sam 
says  they  do  cut  up  ter'bly  on  thet  boat: — play 
cards  an'  drink.  O,  it's  som'thin'  scand'lous !  " 

"  Em !  "  was  Slack's  non-committal  reply. 


Slack's  Recreant  Wooing  23 

The  conversation  lagged.  The  sound  of  the 
piano  came  through  the  window.  The  touch  was 
that  of  a  master  hand,  and  the  flood  of  melody 
filled  the  hearts  of  the  listeners  with  delight. 

"  How  she  do  play,"  said  Slack. 

Walking  to  the  end  of  the  porch  nearest  the 
sea,  he  sat  in  a  chair;  but  comfort  was  to  be  de- 
nied him.  Millie's  voice  drowned  the  tones  of 
the  piano. 

"  Good  Lor' !  Slack  Dorkins,  yer  be  a  sittin, 
on  thet  tidy  as  Ethel  knitted  with  her  own  hands ! 
Git  up  out'n  thet  cheer." 

Slack  jumped  as  if  stung.  Tidies  he  held  in 
special  abhorrence.  Millie  scrutinized  him 
closely.  Surely  there  was  dust  on  his  coat.  She 
held  a  whisk-broom  in  her  hand  and  shook  it  at 
him  threateningly. 

"  Take  thet  broom,"  she  exclaimed  as  she  ap- 
proached the  unfortunate  fisherman,  "  an'  whisk 
yerself  out  in  th'  yard.  Good  Lor',  what'll  be- 
come of  yer,  anyhow?" 

Slack  had  taken  special  pains  with  his  dress, 
with  a  fixed  determination  to  surprise  Millie, 
and  wring  from  her  some  slight  word  of  approba- 
tion. He  had  adorned  himself  with  a  new  cra- 
vat, and  had  waited  expectantly  for  a  word  of 
praise.  He  was  somewhat  taken  aback  that  his 
unusually  spruce  appearance  should  not  only  go 
unnoticed,  but  that  nightmare  of  his  existence, 
dust,  was  still  with  him.  He  took  the  broom 
obediently  and,  with  many  flourishes,  removed 


24  Hester  Blair 

the  offending  dust  and  presented  himself  for  in- 
spection. 

"  How  do  I  look,  Millie?  " 

Critically  she  scanned  the  offender.  "  Well," 
she  vouchsafed,  "  yer  don'  look  no  wuss  than  yer 
werV' 

"  Why,"  blurted  the  erring  fisherman,  "  I 
thought  I  looked  pretty  good.  Put  on  this  new 
cravat  ter  see  how  yer'd  like  it." 

"  Huh !  new  cravats  look  well  on  a  great  hulk 
of  a  man  like  you." 

Her  eyes  traveled  to  his  hair ;  her  features  took 
on  an  expression  of  withering  disgust.  The  man 
before  her  shuddered :  he  remembered  his  hair, — 
in  his  anxiety  to  display  his  new  cravat  he  had 
forgotten  the  combing  process. 

"  Yer  see,  Millie,"  he  began  penitently 

She  interrupted  him.  "  Don't  yer  talk  back 
ter  me,  till  yer  lookin'  fitter  'n  yer  do  now."  With 
a  scornful  glance  she  continued :  "  Don't  yer 
move,  Slack  Dorkins,  don't  yer  move ! " 

She  entered  the  house,  and  if  she  were  not  so 
absorbed  with  her  desire  to  tidy  up  the  universe, 
she  might  have  heard  a  suppressed  chuckle  fol- 
lowing her  retreating  footsteps.  The  eyes  of  the 
culprit  on  the  porch  twinkled  merrily;  then  as 
Millie  reappeared  with  a  basin  of  water  and  a 
comb,  sought  the  ground  as  became  true  abase- 
ment. 

Straightway,  Millie  proceeded  to  administer 


Slack's  Recreant  Wooing  25 

to  the  rebellious  head  of  hair,  such  a  soaking  as 
it  had  not  received  for  many  a  day.  The  water 
splashed  into  her  victim's  eyes,  and  ran  in 
streams  down  his  neck.  His  collar,  which  he  had 
donned  in  anticipation  of  an  afternoon  in  Mil- 
lie's company,  fell  before  the  watery  onslaught. 
The  new  cravat,  alas!  received  its  first  baptism, 
and  lay  like  a  wet  rag,  damp  and  disheveled. 

When  head  and  hair  would  absorb  no  more 
water,  the  comb  was  brought  into  play  and 
wielded  with  determined  vigor.  That  head  of 
hair  must  be  conquered.  All  went  well  until  she 
attempted  to  part  it.  It  was  then  that  rebellion 
took  possession  of  the  bristly  growth,  and  of  Mil- 
lie's temper.  It  would  not  part  straight.  She 
slapped  it,  she  pulled  it;  no,  the  part  took  a  zig- 
zag course.  Undaunted,  she  tried  the  other  side 
with  like  results.  An  idea  occurred  to  her.  Now 
Millie  was  a  woman  of  action,  as  well  as  of  de- 
termination. She  cast  a  threatening  glance  at 
her  victim  and  re-entered  the  house,  hurling  back 
the  command,  "Don't  yer  move!" 

The  uncautious  Slack  gave  way  to  a  burst  of 
laughter,  until  warned  by  Millie's  returning  foot- 
steps. She  held  a  cup  in  her  hand ;  and  advanced 
with  the  self-satisfied  air  of  one  who  had  solved  a 
knotty  problem. 

"What  yer  got  ther'?"  asked  Slack. 

"  Never  yer  mind,"  was  the  enlightening  re- 
sponse, "  jest  yer  hold  yer  head." 


26  Hester  Blair 

The  contents  of  the  cup,  to  the  last  drop,  was 
emptied  on  Slack's  unruly  hair,  and  the  molasses 
— for  that  it  was — percolated  through  the  dense 
growth  with  characteristic  slowness.  A  trium- 
phant smile  overspread  Millie's  countenance; 
and  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  she  renewed  the 
combing  and  parting.  The  comb  stuck.  She 
pulled  with  energy,  nor  rested  until  the  shiny, 
sticky  mass  clung,  as  if  glued,  to  the  scalp  of  the 
enraptured  fisherman.  She  stepped  back  to  view 
the  result  of  her  muscular  efforts. 

"  Ther',"  she  exclaimed,  "  yer  best  friend 
wouldn't  know  yer." 

A  smile  of  idiotic  delight  rewarded  her.  Slack 
took  a  large,  coarse  comb  from  his  pocket,  and 
handed  it  to  the  spinster. 

"  Yer  see,  Millie,"  he  said,  "  arter  th'  dressin' 
down  yer  give  me  t'other  day,  I  went  ter  th'  vil- 
lage an'  bought  this  yer  curry,  an'  by  gum !  arter 
I  washed  up,  I  clean  forgot  ter  use  it.  I  feel  so 
dern  good  now,  I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  comb 
my  hair  agin.  Keep  th'  curry,  Millie,  an'  when 
my  hair  needs  it,  I'll  come  'round  and  hev  yer 
dress  it." 

"  D'yer  mean  ter  tell  me  yer  don't  comb  yer 
hair  at  least  twice  a  day? "  Her  tone  was 
freighted  with  disgust. 

"  What's  th'  good  on't !  Tiler's  no  one  ter  see 
it  when  it  be  combed."  With  a  ludicrous  attempt 
at  tenderness  he  continued :  "  Ef  yer'd  marry  me, 


Slack's  Recreant  Wooing  27 

Millie,  I'd  comb  it — I'd  comb  it  till  ther'd  be  no 
hair  left  ter  comb." 

"  Yer  know  well  'nough,  Slack  Dorkins,  thet 
Hessie  and  Ethy  can't  git  'long  'thout  me." 

"  Yer  know  well  'nough,  thet  /  can't  get  'long 
'thout  you." 

Though  Millie  would  not  acknowledge  it,  the 
love  of  this  man  was  as  necessary  to  her  exist- 
ence and  happiness  as  the  air  she  breathed.  But 
she  toyed  with  his  heart  and  his  love,  because 
she  knew  they  were  hers,  without  stint  or  reserva- 
tion. Were  she  accused  of  more  than  ordinary 
regard  for  the  man,  who,  for  twenty  years,  had 
waited  for  the  word  that  she  withheld,  she  would 
deny  it.  Yet  she  loved  him.  Through  all  these 
years  she  had  looked  upon  him  as  absolutely  her 
own.  No  doubt  of  his  loyalty,  no  fear  that  he 
might  be  lost  to  her,  had  ever  quickened  her  heart 
beats ; — that  such  a  contingency  might  arise,  had 
never  occurred  to  her.  She  received  his  blind, 
patient  love  as  her  right,  and  gave  but  little  in 
return ;  but  that  little  was  the  sunshine  that  il- 
lumined the  pathway  of  his  existence.  A  smile 
meant  to  Slack  a  week  of  happiness,  an  affection- 
ate word  unguardedly  uttered — for  Millie's  in- 
difference was  assumed — was  bliss.  So  their  life 
went  on — he  loving  and  waiting,  she  receiving  his 
devotion  with  affected  unconcern,  and  querulous 
upraiding. 

Millie  gathered  up  some  working  materials, 


28  Hester  Blair 

that  were  on  a  small  table  on  the  porch,  and  pre- 
pared to  enter  the  house.  She  turned  to  the  fish- 
erman and  spoke : 

"  Slacky,  all  men  say  they  can't  get  'long  'thout 
a  woman, — an'  when  they  git  her,  they  can't  git 
'long  with  her.  Yer  better  off  as  yer  are.  Keep 
on  with  yer  fishin'  an'  scrapin'  thet  fiddle  o' 
yourn  in  th'  cabin  o'  yer  schooner,  an'  don't  be  a 
fool!" 

And  with  this  sage-like  and  philosophical  bolt 
of  wisdom,  she  sought  the  sacred  precincts  of 
the  kitchen. 

Slack's  answering  chuckle  was  not  indicative 
of  a  profound  impression  having  been  made  upon 
him, — nor  had  there  been.  He  whistled  softly 
and  walked  in  the  direction  of  the  barn. 

The  music  continued.  It  rose  and  fell,  varying 
from  a  wild  Moorish  song,  to  a  tumultuous  out- 
pouring of  sound,  as  if  echoing  the  cry  of  a  lost 
soul.  If  Hester  were  telling  her  story  in  melody, 
she  had  touched  the  fountain  spring  of  life's  emo- 
tions, that  now  surged  in  torrents  of  sound 
through  the  open  door  and  window,  and  died 
upon  the  quiet  of  the  summer  day. 

Young,  beautiful,  talented,  Hester  had,  during 
her  father's  lifetime,  received  every  educational 
advantage  that  money  could  procure.  Two  years 
she  had  spent  in  European  travel,  and  in  the 
completion  of  her  musical  education,  having  re- 
turned but  a  short  time  before  her  father's  death. 

Henry  Blair  had  been  the  local  magistrate.  He 


Slack's  Recreant  Wooing  29 

had  been  everyone's  friend ;  and  it  was  only  after 
his  death,  that  it  was  discovered  that  the  man 
whom  all  believed  wealthy,  had  left  nothing  but 
the  homestead,  and  a  name  that  lived  after  him. 

After  her  father's  death,  Hester  immediately 
set  to  work  with  the  courage  of  her  race.  The 
care  and  education  of  her  sister  Ethel  came  first ; 
of  herself,  and  her  future,  she  had  no  fear.  Calm, 
dispassionate,  of  a  superior  order  of  intelligence, 
she  looked  her  position  squarely  in  the  face.  She 
recognized  her  responsibility,  and  met  it  with 
fortitude  and  decision ;  yet,  underlying  it  all,  was 
a  passionate  desire  for  the  higher  things  of  life 
than  her  surroundings  or  conditions  indicated 
or  allowed.  She  had  returned  to  her  old  home 
after  the  years  of  absence,  the  same  loving 
daughter  and  sister;  but  contact  with  the  world, 
that  never  fails  to  leave  its  imprint  for  good  or 
for  evil,  had  left  its  stamp  upon  her.  Her  girl- 
hood love  for  John  Gary  had  given  place  to  a 
sincere  respect  and  friendly  regard.  Content- 
ment had  been  replaced  by  vague,  unconscious 
unrest. 

Ralph  Featherly  came  over  the  brow  of  the 
hill  from  the  village,  and,  pausing,  stood  in  a 
listening  attitude  before  the  window  of  the  room 
in  which  Hester  was  playing.  Half  an  hour  went 
by  and  still  he  listened. 

By  the  advice  of  his  friend  and  classmate,  Dr. 
Coulton,  who  was  the  rector  of  the  village  church, 
he  had  been  induced  to  come  to  Norton  for  the 


30  Hester  Blair 

summer,  to  regain  his  health.  Though  carefully 
guarded,  it  was  known  to  a  few  of  his  closest 
friends  that  he  was  suffering  from  heart  disease. 
He  had  lived  in  New  York  the  life  of  a  wealthy 
young  man  about  town,  which  is  not  conducive 
to  good  health,  particularly  to  one  suffering  from 
an  organic  trouble.  His  father  was  of  the  fourth 
generation  of  a  line  of  ancestors  who  had  been 
bankers :  but  he  had  retired  from  active  business, 
and,  of  the  firm  of  Featherly  &  Co.,  his  son  Ralph 
was  the  actual  head. 

Hester  turned  and  met  the  gaze  of  the  young 
man  fixed  upon  her. 

"  What,"  she  exclaimed,  "  not  boating?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  went  as  far  as  the  wharf 
and  then  decided  not  to  go." 

"  But  I  thought  you  enjoyed  fishing." 

"  So  I  do,  but  I  like  music  better.  Why  do 
you  reserve  such  a  fine  performance  until  you  are 
alone?" 

"  Perhaps  I  was  in  the  humor,"  she  laughed. 

"  One  hardly  expects  to  hear  such  music  in 
this  far-away  spot." 

She  did  not  reply,  but  her  hands  strayed 
lightly  over  the  keys.  Featherly  entered  the 
room  and  leaned  against  the  piano. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  I  sometimes  think 
it  is  a  pity  that  you  had  not  chosen  a  public 
career." 

"  It  is  not  too  late,"  she  smilingly  rejoined, 
"  I  am  not  past  the  age." 


"  John  Carey  approached  the  house  ;  and  pausing,  looked 
into  the  wuidow." 


Slack's  Recreant  Wooing  31 

"  True,"  he  replied. 

"  I  shall  go  to  some  large  city  after  the  sum- 
mer season  and  make  the  attempt.  I  can  but 
fail." 

"  You  have  everything  in  your  favor.  Have 
you  decided  where  you  will  go?  " 

"  New  York,"  she  answered,  "  is  my  first 
choice." 

"  In  that,"  he  replied,  "  you  are  wise.  Will 
you  play  this?"  he  asked,  placing  a  sheet  of 
music  before  her.  "  It's  a  favorite  of  mine." 

It  was  a  love  song.  She  played  it  with  exqui- 
site pathos  and  expression.  He  leaned  over  the 
piano  to  turn  the  music.  The  color  swept  in 
waves  over  her  neck  and  cheeks.  The  sheet  of 
music  slid  from  the  rest,  and  in  the  confusion 
of  replacing  it  their  hands  met.  The  touch  drove 
the  blood  into  her  cheeks;  and  the  first  discord- 
ant note  marred  her  generally  faultless  execu- 
tion. Her  hand  was  tremulous,  and  she  finished 
abruptly. 

"  Don't  stop,"  he  begged,  "  play  it  again." 

Somewhat  recomposed,  she  began  softly  with  a 
surer  touch,  and  the  music  rose  in  melodious 
abandon.  Featherly's  eyes  were  on  the  beautiful 
face  before  him :  the  changing  expression  telling 
the  song's  story.  She  seemed  to  feel  his  glance 
and  it  thrilled  her. 

John  Gary  approached  the  house;  and  paus- 
ing, looked  into  the  window.  Neither  occupant 
of  the  room  had  noticed  his  coming.  He  saw  the 


32  Hester  Blair 

heightened  color  on  the  cheek  of  the  woman  he 
loved;  the  attitude  of  Featherly,  his  eyes  fixed 
with  passionate  admiration  on  her  face.  He  re- 
traced his  steps  and  silently  descended  the  hill 
to  the  village. 


CHAPTER  III 
LOVE'S  CHAMPION: — "THEN  IT'S  WAR?" 

Man  may  play  with  fate  and  fire,  be  as  daring1  as  he  will; 

He  may  brave  all  dangers  known  and  unknown  too. 
But  measure  not  your  feeble  wits  with  woman's  tact  and 
skill: 

For  Heaven  decreed  a  lesser  share  to  you. 

IT  was  late  afternoon  when  the  guests  re- 
turned from  their  fishing  trip.  They 
climbed  the  hill  slowly,  boisterously  happy 
over  what  they  termed  a  successful  catch. 
Snatches  of  songs  were  interrupted  by  gibes  and 
jests,  delicate  but  pointed.  Mrs.  Pendleton  sus- 
tained the  greater  part  of  the  jocular  burden; 
but  she  was  equal  to  the  task.  It  was  not  posi- 
tively known,  but  it  was  generally  believed  that 
the  death  of  Pendleton  was  her  third  bereave- 
ment; but  as  she  never  alluded  to  any  but  the 
last,  there  was  no  way  of  ascertaining  the  exact 
number.  Of  all  who  conjectured,  none  were 
brave  enough  to  venture  more  than  a  guess ;  but 
by  common  consent,  three  were  the  marital  losses 
she  had  sustained  and  survived.  She  was  of  that 
age  made  doubtful  by  a  devising  modiste,  and  a 
good,  healthy  constitution  well  cared  for.  None 
knew  better  that  beauty 

"  May  be  retained, 
But  n'er  regained." 


34  Hester  Blair 

She  looked  eight  and  twenty, — she  might  have 
been  forty.  But  whatever  her  age,  she  was  a 
cheery,  lovable  little  woman,  whose  apparent 
mission  in  life  was  to  straighten  out  all  tangled 
love  affairs,  make  everybody  about  her  as  happy 
as  circumstances  would  allow;  circumvent  the 
designing  and,  Heaven  willing,  marry  again.  She 
was  everywhere;  she  did  most  things,  and  did 
them  well.  She  played  whist  or  lawn  tennis  with 
daring  and  finesse,  and  was  equally  at  home  on 
a  horse,  in  a  boat,  or  at  the  piano.  Before  the 
first  week  had  elapsed  after  her  arrival,  she  had 
the  confidences  of  all  the  guests;  had  been  made 
the  recipient  of  family  secrets;  was  conversant 
with,  and  listened  with  sympathetic  interest  to 
everyone's  hobby, — losing  many  hours  of  needful 
sleep  thereby,  but  gaining  the  reputation  of  be- 
ing a  farsighted,  intelligent  woman.  But  more 
than  all,  she  had  conquered  Millie's  prejudices, 
and  had  the  artful  Slack  at  her  feet.  She  had 
known  Featherly  in  New  York.  She  treated 
him  with  motherly,  affectionate  consideration; 
yet  she  looked  the  younger  of  the  two ;  and  their 
friendship,  of  long  standing,  privileged  her,  at 
times,  to  mildly  lecture  him.  She  had  one  griev- 
ance: Glenn  Hopedale  Fenton  was  a  friend  of 
Featherly.  He  had  been  for  some  weeks  living 
on  his  yacht,  which  was  anchored  in  the  harbor 
of  Norton.  She  had  known  Fenton  in  New  York ; 
she  disliked  him ;  but  Featherly  laughed  her  criti- 
cisms away  with  the  remark,  "  that  he  was  a 


Love's  Champion — "Then  It's  War ?"     35 

'  good  fellow,'  that  all  women  were  prejudiced, 
and  that  she  didn't  mean  half  that  she  said." 
Fenton  frequently  visited  the  Blair  family,  osten- 
sibly to  see  Featherly,  but  he  did  not  deceive  Mrs. 
Pendleton. 

Hester  and  Featherly  met  the  guests  at  the  top 
of  the  hill. 

"  What  luck,  Laura?  "  Featherly  asked. 

Mrs.  Pendleton  replied,  "  It  was  pull  and  haul 
from  the  moment  we  anchored  off  the  lighthouse 
point.  We  have  fish  enough  to  feed  the  whole 
community.  How  many  have  you  ladies?  " 

One  of  the  guests  held  up  her  catch.  Two  small 
fish  dangled  from  a  string.  "  Two  scup,"  she 
answered  proudly. 

Another  displayed  one  solitary  specimen  of  her 
skill  in  the  bottom  of  a  generous-sized  basket. 
Her  voice,  however,  trilled  with  true  fisher- 
man's pride  as  she  held  it  aloft.  "  One  tautog." 
Another  less  fortunate,  with  a  rueful  air,  dis- 
played a  dog-fish. 

"  And  you,  Laura?  "  demanded  Featherly. 

"  O,  well,  you  see,"  Mrs.  Pendleton  answered 
unblushingly,  "  together  with  my  duties  as  chap- 
eron, I  assisted  Captain  Edwards  with  the  man- 
agement of  the  boat." 

Mrs.  Pendleton's  answer  was  received  with 
derisive  laughter  by  the  guests. 

"  Manage  the  boat,"  repeated  young  Stevens, 
a  medical  student,  "manage  the  boat!  ha,  ha! 
Captain  Edwards  was  in  a  trance  from  the  mo- 


36  Hester  Blair 

merit  Mrs.  Pendleton  came  aboard.  Manage  the 
boat  indeed !  Good  joke !  "  and  they  filed  into  the 
house  hurling  back  a  shower  of  disdainful  allu- 
sions to  chaperons  in  general,  and  some  terse 
remarks  about  heart  wreckers  in  particular. 

"  How  they  do  enjoy  themselves,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Pendleton,  "  the  dears !  " 

Hester  answered  Millie's  call  and  followed  the 
guests,  leaving  Mrs.  Pendleton  and  Featherly 
alone.  Fenton  was  coming  leisurely  up  the  hill. 
Mrs.  Pendleton  turned  to  Featherly: 

"  Ralph,  aren't  you  going  to  dress  for  dinner? 
You'll  be  late." 

"  Time  enough,"  he  rejoined. 

Taking  him  by  the  arm  she  turned  him  around 
in  the  direction  of  the  house. 

"  There,  that's  a  dear  boy.  Go  and  dress  for 
dinner.  I  wrant  a  word  with  Fenton." 

"  What's  wrong?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing  which  concerns  you,  dear  boy ;  a 
little  matter  of  business,  that's  all." 

He  entered  the  house  as  Fenton  approached. 
Mrs.  Pendleton  turned  to  meet  him. 

"  What  ill-wind  brings  you  here?  I  thought 
your  boat  had  left  the  harbor  and  we  were  rid 
of  you." 

"  Not  an  over-enthusiastic  greeting,"  he  re- 
plied. "  Perhaps  I  remained  to  enjoy  your  very 
charming  society." 

"  Bah !  Let  us  be  frank !  What  scheme  have 
you  afoot  now?  " 


Love's  Champion — "Then  It's  War?"   37 

"  My  dear  Laura " 

"  Don't  l  dear  Laura '  me !  Look  here,  Glenn, 
I've  known  you  for  the  past  ten  years,  and  I  never 
knew  you  to  have  one  wholesome,  honest  thought 
or  intention.  The  only  cause  for  complaint  I 
ever  had  against  poor  Pendleton  was,  that  you 
were  a  friend  of  his." 

"  Laura,  you  have  a  most  uncomfortable  way 
of  alluding  to  the  past;  and  you  are  not  at  your 
best  when  you  are  heroic !  Do  let  bygones  alone." 

She  was  not  to  be  put  off.  She  was  a  deter- 
mined little  woman,  and  once  she  had  taken  a 
matter  in  hand,  she  followed  it  to  the  end.  She 
knew  Fenton's  past  life,  and  she  felt  that  no  good 
would  come  of  his  visits  to  the  Blair  home.  She 
looked  him  in  the  eyes  unflinchingly  and  re- 
turned to  the  attack. 

"  You  came  here  a  month  ago  apparently  to 
see  Featherly.  You  remain  here  week  after 
week.  I  can  guess  the  attraction.  I  now  ask 
your  purpose." 

"  Laura,"  he  rejoined,  "  you  are  a  decidedly 
clever  woman,  but  you  assume  too  much." 

He  turned  as  if  to  enter  the  house.  She  took 
hold  of  his  arm  and  whirled  him  round  until  he 
faced  her. 

"  Glenn,"  her  tone  was  determined,  "  I  came 
here  as  a  summer  boarder.  I  love  Hester  and 
Ethel,  and  I  believe  they  regard  me  with  some 
degree  of  affection.  I  know  you  to  be  bad,  thor- 
oughly bad.  Take  my  advice  and  go." 


38  Hester  Blair 

"  But  suppose  I  refuse  to  leave  the  field? 
Featherly  can't  have  any  serious  intentions  with 
regard  to  Hester: — with  his  prospects,  he 
couldn't  be  such  a  fool.  As  for  that  lout 
Cary- 

"  That  lout  Gary,  as  you  are  pleased  to  call 
him,  is  one  of  nature's  noblemen.  Of  Featherly's 
intentions  I  know  nothing,  but  I  am  satisfied  of 
what  yours  are.  As  I  before  gentlv  intimated, — 
go." 

"  And  if  I  decide  to  remain?  "  he  queried. 

"  But  you  won't." 

"  By  Jove !  but  I  will.  It  isn't  every  day  one 
meets  such  a  beautiful  woman  as  Hester  Blair, 
and  I  intend  to  enter  the  lists.  Featherly  isn't 
a  marrying  man ;  but  his  very  marked  attentions 
are  not  only  accepted,  but  encouraged.  It's  com- 
mon talk  in  the  village.  The  country  lover  seems 
to  be  getting  the  cold  shoulder.  My  attention — 
may  I  add  admiration — hasn't  made  the  impres- 
sion I  could  wish ;  but  mark  me,  Laura,  you  know 
the  world :  wealth  and  social  position  always  have 
the  pole,  and  in  this  race,  unless  I  mistake,  I  shall 
be  in  at  the  finish." 

"  Glenn,"  there  was  a  note  of  entreaty  in  her 
voice,  "  years  ago  there  lived  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  a  young,  trusting  girl.  You  know  her  fate. 
You  were  instrumental  in  driving  her  to  des- 
peration, until  she  sank  to  the  lowest  social 
depths.  She  is  now  living  in  one  of  the  worst 
localities  in  the  city." 


Love's  Champion — "Then  It's  War?"    39 

"  She  was  a  fool !  "  he  rejoined  angrily. 

"  She  was  not  a  fool,  until  she  was  made  one 
by  you, — tricked,  ensnared  and  cast  aside.  You 
wrere  the  cause  of  breaking  up  the  home  of  the 
Hadleys;  the  husband  is  drinking  himself  to 
death  to  forget  his  shame." 

"  Laura,"  protested  Fenton,  "  in  Heaven's 
name  have  done !  That's  all  recorded  in  the  an- 
cient history  of  Manhattan  social  life!  They  are 
not  exceptions,  they  are  simply  incidents !  That's 
all!" 

"  Ah,  you  provoke  me  beyond  endurance.  You 
never  found  me  wanting  in  frankness?  " 

"  No,  Laura,  your  worst  enemy — if  you  ever 
had  one — couldn't  accuse  you  of  it." 

"  Good !  and  you  believe  me  honest  in  what  I 
say?" 

"  Distressingly  so." 

"  Glenn,  I  know  you  to  be  a  thorough  scoun- 
drel." 

"  That's  harsh,"  he  remonstrated. 

"  But  true.    Will  you  leave  here?  " 

"  No,  I  stay." 

"  Then  it's  war?  " 

"  So  be  it."  His  voice  took  on  a  determined 
ring.  "  I  can  at  least  choose  the  fighting  ground. 
Let  it  be  here." 

"  Fenton,  I  detest  you  heartily ;  but  you  play 
tennis  divinely.  We'll  have  time  for  a  game  be- 
fore dinner.  While  you  remain  I'll  take  care  to 
monopolize  your  very  charming  society.  /  am 


40  Hester  Blair 

safe  with  you,  and  it  will  give  you  less  oppor- 
tunity for  harm.  Come." 

The  bulky  form  of  Slack  lumbered  around  the 
corner  of  the  house.  His  keen,  distrustful  glance 
followed  the  retreating  forms  of  Mrs.  Pendleton 
and  her  companion.  Slack's  knowledge  of  men 
and  things  was  neither  profound  nor  far-reach- 
ing. His  world  embraced  the  territory  measured 
by  the  eye  from  the  bluff  overlooking  the  village. 
An  occasional  visit  to  Boston  gave  him  a  glance 
of  a  world  of  which  he  knew  but  little,  and  that 
little  did  not  invite  further  intimacy.  Of  book 
knowledge,  he  had  none.  With  difficulty  he  could 
scrawl  his  signature ;  estimate  the  probable  catch 
of  a  season's  fishing;  and  to  a  nicety,  figure  the 
profits  at  the  close.  Yet  woe  to  him  who  at- 
tempted to  trade  on  his  incredulity  or  lack  of 
worldly  wisdom.  He  was  justly  accredited  with 
being  endowed  with  an  uncommon  amount  of 
"  horse  sense."  Instinct  dominated  his  judgment, 
which  seldom  led  him  astray.  He  watched  the 
retreating  couple  who  had  just  declared  war,  and 
his  customary  expression  of  good  nature  gave 
place  to  one  of  perplexity. 

"  What  be  them  two  a  doin'  tergether?  "  he 
muttered.  "  They  ain't  no  more  like  'n  a  cat- 
rigged  boat  and  a  school  o'  porpose.  Th'  widder 
can't  be  settin'  her  cap  fer  thet  duck !  No,  he  ain't 
her  kind.  She's  square's  er  brick,  an'  he — I  don't 
like  'im,  an'  neither,  do  I  believe,  does  th'  wid- 
der. What  be  he  a  doin'  'ere  so  much?  " 


Love's  Champion — "Then  It's  War?"    41 

He  mused  awhile  and  rapped  his  forehead  with 
the  bony  knuckles  of  his  hand.  This  was  a  habit 
he  often  indulged  in  when  worried: — affirming, 
and  seriously,  "  thet  it  shook  th'  ideas  up,  and 
out  of  th'  lot  rattlin'  round  inside,  he  usually 
got  one  good  one." 

He  waited  silently  for  the  settling  process, 
then  continued : 

"  Now,  Mr.  Gooddale  Finton  ( Slack  never 
could  remember  names)  ef  yer  think  yer  kin 
ketch  any  fish  in  these  parts,  yer've  got  ter  hev  a 
dern  sight  better  kind  of  bait  'n  yer  seem  ter  per- 
sess  up  ter  now.  What's  all  this  ere  talk  of  a  war 
atween  he  and  th'  widder?  Ef  I  thought " — an 
ominous  scowl  overspread  his  features,  his  eyes 
flashed  and  the  lines  about  his  mouth  deepened. 
He  thrust  his  hands  deep  into  the  pockets  of  his 
trousers,  and  kicked  a  tuft  of  grass  into  the  air 
with  his  boot.  This  apparently  eased  his  feelings, 
but  his  speech  was  ominously  distinct  as  he  con- 
tinued :  "  Ef  I  thought, — but  no,  couldn't  be,  but 
ef  it  wer'  so, — now  I'll  jest  keep  an  eye  on  yer, 
Mr.  Finton,  an'  satisfy  myself  ef  what  I  think 
ye  cum  'ere  fer  is  so,  er  ef  it  isn't  so.  In  other 
words,  whether  Slack's  right  or  whether  Slack's 
wrong.  Ef  Slack's  wrong,  then  ther's  no  harm 
done,  an'  no  one'll  be  th'  wiser.  Ef  Slack's  right 
— "  he  whistled  softly,  and  sent  another  tuft  of 
grass  into  the  air,  "  well,  ef  I'm  right,  I'll  give  yer 
a  duckin'  in  th'  bay  'n'  a  thunderin'  good 
thrashin'  ter  boot." 


42  Hester  Blair 

"Slack  Dorkins!" 

Slack's  chuckle  emphasized  the  delight  that 
shone  in  his  eyes.  He  had  never  yet  refused  to 
answer  that  call.  His  hand  instinctively  flew  to 
his  hair.  He  grinned  complacently  and  entered 
the  house. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  MY  LOVE,  MY  ONLY  LOVE,  MY  WIFE !  " 

I  loved! 

'Twas  as  awakening  from  a  sleep,  a  dream. 
For  ages  had  the  darkness  of  the  blind 
Encompassed  me.    The  glories  of  the  world — 
The  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  I  had  not  known; 
Nor  felt  the  pulses  quicken  as  the  new 
Morn  incense  steals  with  magic  charm  o'er  land 
And  sea,  and  speak  of  God  in  voice  that  fills 
The  heart  and  brain  with  thrills  of  ecstasy. 


"If 


Y  life,"  Featherly  was  saying,  "  has  been 
no  better  than  the  average  young  man 
who  finds  himself  with  much  money  and 
time  at  his  command." 

He  was  leaning  over  the  arm  of  the  rustic 
bench  on  which  Hester  was  sitting.  Quiet 
reigned,  for  the  guests  had  gone,  and  Featherly's 
aunt  and  Millie  were  alone  in  the  house.  The 
evening  breezes  sighed  amorously,  and  died  into 
soft  whispers,  for  Love  was  abroad.  Into  Hes- 
ter's cheeks  had  crept  a  truant  blush,  that  deep- 
ened till  it  put  to  shame  the  late  roses  climbing 
over  a  trellis  near  at  hand. 

u  You  know  what  I  would  say,  Hester — if  I 
could,  if  I  dared.  My  love  has  made  a  coward 
of  me.  I  came  here  old  in  knowledge  of  the 

43 


44  Hester  Blair 

world's  ways,  to  find  that  I  did  not  know  what 
life  was.  You  know  I  love  you,  Hester." 

He  tried  to  look  into  her  eyes,  but  her  glance 
was  fixed  on  the  leaves  she  was  fashioning  into 
a  rustic  wreath. 

Age,  somehow,  is  no  respecter  of  the  fiery  pas- 
sion that  sets  aflame  the  hearts  and  the  cheeks  of 
young  lovers.  Judgment  grows  mature  as  pas- 
sion and  youth  dies;  and  the  grosser  things  of 
life,  that  respect  not  love's  young  dream,  take 
possession  of  our  latter  years.  Featherly's  aunt 
stepped  briskly  on  to  the  portico.  The  goddess 
of  passion  fled  in  dismay  before  this  calm,  debo- 
nair, little  woman,  and  she  was  in  command  of 
the  field. 

Blue  eyes  that  seemed  faded  through  excess  of 
kindness;  soft  lips,  and  a  gentle  expression  of 
features — suggesting  a  living  interrogation, 
which  asked  almost  audibly  if  you  were  entirely 
comfortable,  or  if  she  could  in  any  way  add  to 
your  happiness ;  a  gentle  voice  that  reminded  you 
of  the  fairy  godmother  of  your  youthful  imagina- 
tions; a  dapper  little  figure  crowned  with  wavy 
white  hair  and  adorned  with  the  daintiest  bit  of 
white  lace  that  ever  woman  wore — such  was  Aunt 
Carry.  The  spirit  of  youth  enveloped  her — for 
her  step  was  light,  and  her  heart  was  yet  in  the 
domain  of  childhood.  She  had  found  nothing 
but  good  in  the  world — for  she  had  looked  for 
nothing  else.  To  be  mortal,  she  must  have,  at 
least,  one  failing — she  loved  her  nephew  with  a 


"My  Love,  My  Only  Love,  My  Wife"  45 

love  that  could  not  admit  that  in  him,  fault  ex- 
isted. But,  somehow,  even  for  that  you  loved  her 
the  more. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  asked  cheerily  as  she  ap- 
proached, "what  are  you  young  people  discussing 
so  earnestly?" 

Featherly  loved  his  aunt — he  loved  her  ten- 
derly; but  he  said  something  under  his  breath 
that  did  not  imply  affection.  Then  aloud : 

"  Nothing  of  consequence,  Auntie  dear." 

"  Of  no  moment,  I  assure  you.  Sit  here,  Aunt 
Carry,"  Hester  said.  She  directed  a  laughing 
glance  at  Featherly.  He  did  not  seem  to  enter 
into  the  humor  of  the  situation. 

"  Ah,"  smiled  Aunt  Carry,  "  you  were  just  ex- 
changing courtesies,  not  confidences.  You  young 
people  are  too  circumsp'ect,  by  far."  Then  with 
a  doubting  glance,  "  I  begin  to  think  you  were 
talking  about  something." 

"  Auntie,  dear,"  began  Featherly  in  a  concilia- 
tory tone,  "  I  was  just  saying " 

"  No  matter  what  you  were  just  saying,  /  say 
that  I  want  you  to  go  to  the  village,  and  get  me 
three  skeins  of  embroidery  silk  to  match  that." 
She  forced  a  piece  of  colored  cloth  into  Feath- 
erly's  hand. 

"  But  Aunty " 

"  Don't  auntie  me,  but  go,"  was  her  uncom- 
forting  reply. 

"  But  Slack,"  protested  the  young  man,  "  he'll 
go." 


46  Hester  Blair 

"  He  most  surely  would,  were  he  here  and  I 
should  ask  him.  But  I  wouldn't.  You'll  go." 

Featherly  wras  forced  to  surrender.  He  nerv- 
ously tried  to  catch  Hester's  eye  and  lingered, 
now  in  front,  and  now  behind  the  seat,  in  vain  at- 
tempts to  exchange  a  look  or  gesture, — an  un- 
spoken word  of  love ;  but  Aunt  Carry's  vigilance 
intervened.  She  talked  to  Hester  but  she  looked 
at  her  nephew.  She  was  slow  to  understand  his 
attempts  to  enlist  Hester's  attention ;  but  she  was 
quick  to  perceive  that  he  was  loth  to  leave.  Hes- 
ter listened  with  interest  to  Aunt  Carry,  for  they 
were  fond  of  each  other ;  but  her  color  heightened 
with  the  knowledge  that  Featherly  was  making 
desperate  efforts  to  meet  her  glance.  Aunt  Carry 
looked  up  quickly.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  Hes- 
ter's face,  which  was  assuming  a  dull  scarlet  hue. 
For  that  one  instant  to  him,  in  all  the  world,  she 
alone  existed. 

"  Not  gone  yet?  "  queried  Aunt  Carry. 

"  No,  just  going,"  he  replied.  "  I  was  waiting 
— that  is, — I  was  just  about  to  start " 

"  Well  do,"  she  caustically  replied,  "  I  will 
entertain  Hester  with  little  nothings  while  you 
are  gone." 

"  Thanks,  Auntie  dear.  So  kind  of  you.  I'm 
off!" 

"  Dear  me !  "  she  said,  after  he  had  gone,  "  that 
boy  is  a  constant  trial." 

Hester  looked  in  the  direction  Featherly  had 
taken.  He  was  standing  on  the  crest  of  the  hill, 


"My  Love,  My  Only  Love,  My  Wife"  47 

from  where  he  telegraphed  back  hundred  word 
messages  with  his  hands  and  arms. 

"  Hester  dear,"  said  Aunt  Carry,  "  I  dread  to 
think  of  the  time  when  Ralph  will  consider  mar- 
riage. You  cannot  realize  how  it  troubles  me. 
My  brother's  second  marriage  was  unfortunate. 
Why  is  it/'  she  continued  in  a  tone  which  invites 
the  confidences  that  women  of  kindred  likes  or 
interests  indulge  in,  "  how  is  it  that  a  woman  can 
be  so  utterly  devoid  of  feeling  and  the  instincts 
that  should  dominate  a  wife  that  they  wilfully 
wreck  a  man's  happiness.  My  brother's  first 
marriage  was  childless.  His  second  wife  was 
younger  than  he  by  many  years.  Hester,  dear, 
you  can  guess  the  rest — a  life  of  dissension,  then 
dishonor.  A  separation  followed,  and  my  brother 
lives  alone  for,  as  you  know,  Ralph  lives  with 
me.  My  brother's  life  is  embittered — ruined; 
and  he  has  one  fear,  one  dread  always  with  him 
— that  Ralph  will  marry.  It  would  mean  my 
brother's  death,  for  since  his  own  unfortunate 
experience,  he  has  become  a  confirmed  recluse — 
his  one  interest,  his  one  hope,  Ralph.  Thank 
God,  that  the  boy  is  heart  free."  She  mused  a 
while,  then  continued,  unconscious  what  her 
words  meant  to  her  listener.  Not  a  muscle  of 
Hester's  face  betrayed  her.  Her  breathing  was 
measured  but  deep;  her  color  came  and  went; 
but  other  evidence  of  emotion  she  suppressed. 

"  I  cannot  blame  him,"  Aunt  Carry  resumed, 
"  for  Ralph's  love  is  all  that  is  left  to  him  in  life. 


48  Hester  Blair 

I  tell  you  this,  dear,  because  I  have  heard  you 
speak  much  of  your  father ;  and  I  know  were  he 
alive  to-day  that  he  would  be  first  in  your  affec- 
tion, and  that  you  would  long  consider  taking  a 
step  which  would  shake  his  trust  in  you." 

Hester  rose.  Her  face  was  pale  and,  as  she 
leaned  against  the  bench,  Aunt  Carry  looked  at 
her  with  concern. 

"  Are  you  ill,  Hester?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied.  "  Continue,  I  am  listen- 
ing." It  was  with  an  effort  that  she  steadied  her 
voice. 

"  Kalph  is  aware  of  his  father's  wishes,"  Aunt 
Carry  sorrowfully  resumed.  "  I  know  that  I  am 
foolishly  alarmed,  but " — she  took  Hester's  hand 
in  hers — "  you  are  one  in  thousands,  in  goodness 
of  heart,  in  judgment.  I  feel  at  times  as  though 
I  must  talk  to  some  one.  I  can  trust  you,  dear. 
I  have  a  mother's  interest  in  Ralph.  He  is  not 
my  brother's  child — he  is  a  son  by  adoption." 

Hester  started,  but  did  not  speak.  Aunt  Carry 
again  took  up  her  story. 

"  An  estrangement  between  them  would  mean 
a  disclosure;  hence  you  can  readily  appreciate 
my  fears." 

While  her  companion  in  a  gentle  voice  related 
the  facts  that  had  cost  her  brother's  happiness, 
Hester's  thoughts  were  of  her  own  father — his 
untiring  devotion,  his  love,  and  the  life  that  he 
had  given  to  her  own  and  her  sister's  education 
and  advancement.  Unconsciously  she  shuddered 


"My  Love,  My  Only  Love,  My  Wife"  49 

as  the  thought  presented  what  his  feelings  would 
have  been  had  any  act  of  hers  during  his  life  in- 
terrupted his  perfect  trust  in  her.  The  question 
of  her  future  now  rose  before  her,  for  she  must 
answer  her  lover — but  that  answer  she  had  al- 
ready determined  on.  No  thought  of  herself  did 
she  entertain.  Her  duty  seemed  clear,  and, 
though  writh  her  decision  came  the  knowledge 
that  she  must  be  false  to  her  instinct  of  truth,  yet 
her  sense  of  right  decided  the  course  that  she 
would  pursue.  But  she  was  human,  and  her 
lover's  words  rang  in  her  ears;  and  she  could 
still  feel  the  touch  of  his  hand  that  had  sent  the 
blood  rioting  through  her  veins. 

With  springing  step,  Featherly  came  up  the 
path  from  the  village. 

"  Here,  Aunty,"  he  said,  "  is  the  silk ;  and  if 
you  love  me,  never  send  me  again  to  buy  thread. 
They  asked  me  if  it  were  to  mend  a  broken  heart, 
and  then  laughed  me  out  of  the  store." 

"  There,  there,  Ralph,  you  will  survive  it.  You 
may  now  continue  your  little  nothings  with  Hes- 
ter." 

She  entered  the  house,  and  Hester  rose  to  fol- 
low her.  As  she  was  about  to  pass  Featherly,  he 
took  her  hand  in  his. 

"  You  are  not  going,  Hester,"  he  said,  with  a 
show  of  confusion.  "  You  will  hear  what  I  was 
about  to  say  when  my  aunt  interrupted." 

"  I  will  remain  if  you  wish  it." 

He  looked  at  her  eagerly — doubt  and  fear  in 


50  Hester    Blair 

his  looks,  in  his  bearing,  in  the  tones  of  his  voice. 
He  could  not  understand  the  change  that  had 
come  over  her — her  indifference,  her  coldness. 
Her  manner  spoke  not  of  love ;  and  with  a  show 
of  patient  interest  and  a  reserved  calm  she  wraited 
for  him  to  speak.  Her  face  was  impassive,  and 
she  met  his  gaze  with  a  frankness  which  dis- 
armed him. 

"  Hester,"  he  said  in  a  passionate  voice, 
"  surely  I  had  a  right  to  believe — " 

"  Little  nothings,"  she  laughed  gayly.  "  Do 
be  sensible,  Ralph.  Remember  that  a  summer's 
love  blooms  yearly.  It  dies  before  frost  time. 
Dear  me !  You  young  men  are  as  impressionable 
as  a  schoolgirl.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else." 

Excitement  had  given  added  brilliancy  to  her 
eyes.  There  was  an  unnaturalness  to  her  gayety ; 
but  her  lover's  discernment  was  blunted  by  the 
surprise  that  filled  him.  Her  words  he  believed, 
for  in  her  eyes  was  tantalizing  mirth — assumed, 
true,  yet  to  him,  at  that  moment,  deadly  real. 

"  Did  then  the  little  nothings,"  he  said  in  a 
broken  voice,  "  mean  everything  to  me  and  noth- 
ing to  you?  Was  I  mistaken  in  believing  that 
you  cared  for  me?  Did  your  looks,  your  words 
mean  pity — not  love?  " 

He  laughed,  but  it  was  not  pleasant  to  hear. 
At  that  moment  had  he  looked  at  her,  he  would 
have  seen  that  she  was  deeply  moved.  With  an 
effort  she  controlled  her  voice. 

"  Now  seriously — " 


"My  Love,  My  Only  Love,  My  Wife  "  51 

"  Don't,"  he  interrupted  almost  savagely. 

"  You  must  hear  me !  "  her  voice  was  tremu- 
lous. "  We  have  known  each  other  but  a  few 
months.  I  would  not  intentionally  mislead  you 
— I  would  not.  I  am  sorry  I — " 

Again  he  laughed.  It  grated  on  her  hearing, 
for  there  was  no  joy  in  the  sound.  He  looked 
out  over  the  green  fields,  and  the  daisies  and  wild 
flowers  nodded  derisively  in  the  summer  breeze. 
The  bees  were  singing  their  work-a-day  song  in 
the  trellis  beside  the  porch,  and  in  the  hush  of 
early  evening  Hester's  heart-beats  became  almost 
audible. 

"  I  do  not  blame  you,  Hester,"  he  said  sadly. 
"  After  all,  the  Featherly  fortune  in  love  is  still 
with  me.  Like  a  vagrant  flower,  it  is  born  only 
to  be  crushed  by  a  human  foot.  Yet  I  had  hoped 
that  in  the  wilderness  of  an  almost  aimless  life,  a 
hand  had  been  stretched  out  to  me.  Poor  fool ! 
My  father  is  not  far  wrong.  All  of  which,"  he 
said,  turning  to  her  with  an  attempt  to  smile, 
"  goes  to  prove  that  a  Featherly  should  not  love. 
Voila,  (fest  tout! " 

Hester's  effort  at  self  control  was  almost 
superhuman;  but  the  reference  to  his  father 
stung  her  to  the  quick.  While  she  believed  her 
lover, — even  in  thought, — did  not  associate  her 
with  the  wToman  who  had  deceived  his  father,  his 
reference  to  her  aroused  her  pride,  and  her  voice 
was  unguarded  as  she  answered :  "  Your  father 
was  wronged — deceived.  I  do  not  blame  him — " 


52  Hester    Blair 

He  looked  at  her  with  questioning  eyes.  She 
flushed  guiltily,  for  her  ardor  had  betrayed  her. 

"  Hester,"  he  said,  "  My  aunt  has  told  you. 
Has  the  knowledge  influenced  your  answer  to 
me?  Could  you — would  your  answer  have  been 
different—" 

He  looked  at  her  fixedly  for  some  moments. 
She  could  not  meet  his  eyes,  and  the  blood  danced 
to  her  neck  and  cheek.  The  silence  confused  her 
the  more.  She  looked  up  into  his  face  and 
waited  for  him  to  continue. 

"  What  has  my  aunt  said  to  you?  "  He  had, 
in  a  degree,  recovered  his  calmness,  and  his  tone 
was  natural. 

"  Ralph,"  she  said,  "  were  my  father  alive  to- 
day and  his  desire  was  that  I  should  not  marry,  1 
would  respect  his  wishes.  His  love  for  my  sister 
and  myself  was  almost  pathetic  in  its  perfect 
trust.  Neither  wyould  I  have  considered  a  love 
that  would  ask  me  to  turn  from  so  plain  a  duty. 
Your  father's  wishes  should  be  respected — " 

"  Hester,"  he  said, — there  was  tenderness  in 
his  voice, — "  look  at  me." 

She  raised  her  eyes,  but  they  fell  before  his  im- 
passioned glance. 

"  Tell  me,  Hester,  that  you  love  me." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  he  held  her  close.  He 
kissed  her  hair,  her  cheek,  her  lips.  Her  color, 
in  waves,  came  and  went,  diffusing  over  neck 
and  cheeks.  She  tried  to  free  herself,  to  protest, 
to  beg ;  but  he  kissed  the  words  from  her  lips. 


"My  Love,  My  Only  Love,  My  Wife"   53 

"  Hester,  my  love,"  he  said,  while  he  held  her 
face  so  close  that  his  breath  fanned  her  cheek,  "  if 
you  had  succeeded  in  deceiving  me,  do  you  know 
what  it  would  have  meant  to  me — to  my  future? 
I  came  here  with  a  taint  in  me  of  the  world's  bit- 
terness. I  was  floundering  in  a  sea  of  unrest, 
whose  shores  were  strewn  with  the  dead  leaves 
of  unbelief,  and  the  wreck  of  hopes  that  had  come 
to  naught.  My  faith  in  womankind  was  not  pro- 
found, Hester  love,  for  life,  as  I  have  seen  it, 
breeds  not  respect.  Here,  I  was  made  ashamed, 
for  the  life  atmosphere  was  clear;  and  I  received 
my  first  baptism  in  the  realm  of  a  pure  life.  At 
first  I  was  afraid,  for  your  eyes  seemed  to  look 
through  me  and  into  my  ill-spent  past,  and  now 
— now  our  future  opens  with  a  promise  of  life,  of 
love." 

"  But  your  father?  "  she  faltered.  "  I  must 
not — I  will  not  consent  to  come  between  you. 
No,"  she  insisted  as  he  was  about  to  interrupt 
her,  "  we  must  consider  your  father's  happiness 
as  well  as  our  own.  I  know  his  wishes.  I  shall 
respect  them;  for  he  has  suffered  enough.  We 
are  young — we  can  wait." 

He  laughed  softly. 

"  Can  the  flower  ask  the  glacier  that  creeps  to 
the  sea  to  wait  upon  its  blooming?  Can  the  hom- 
ing dove  be  stayed  in  its  flight?  My  heart  has 
found  its  resting  place.  Have  I  not  waited?" 
He  checked  her  interruption  with  his  cheek  to 
hers.  "  Besides,  love,  you  do  not  know  my  fa- 


54  Hester    Blair 

ther.     What  my  aunt  has  told  you  is  true;  but 
I  shall  tell  him  all  and  he  will  consent." 

With  an  effort  she  freed  herself  and  stood  be- 
fore him.  Tenderness,  love,  was  in  her  eyes,  but 
there  was  also  dread.  A  quiet  determination, — 
a  fixity  of  purpose,  dominated  her.  There  was 
character  in  the  very  poise  of  her  head, — a  self 
confidence,  coupled  with  a  clearly  defined  pur- 
pose. 

"  Ralph,  dear,  should  I  consent  to  our  mar- 
riage during  your  father's  lifetime,  I  would  feel 
that  my  father's  teachings  had  been  forgotten. 
We  must  wait,  love." 

Sally  Pitts  approached  with  an  air  of  impor- 
tance. Her  mission  was  not  long  in  doubt.  She 
handed  Featherly  a  telegram,  and  looked  on  in 
breathless  wonder  while  he  read  it.  He  turned 
to  Hester. 

"  It  is  from  my  father.  He  desires  me  to  come 
to  New  York  without  delay,  to  consult  me  on  im- 
portant business  matters." 

"  Sally,"  said  Hester,  "  I  will  fit  on  your  new 
dress  before  it  is  time  for  you  to  return  home." 

Sally  entered  the  house  and  Hester  turned  to 
Peatherly. 

"  You  will  go?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  must."  He  paused. 
Then :  "  and  when  I  return  it  will  be  to  my — to 
my  wife." 

She  cast  a  startled  look  at  him.    To  question 


"My  Love,  My  Only  Love,  My  Wife  "   55 

him  or  reply  was  made  impossible  by  the  return- 
ing guests,  who  were  chattering  with  magpie 
volubility.  Their  voices  gladdened  their  own 
ears ;  nor  did  the  supper  that  was  waiting  them 
lessen  their  good-nature.  In  the  kitchen,  Millie 
confided  to  the  singing  tea  kettle,  which  was  bub- 
bling with  content,  that  "  they  were  a  set  of 
giddy,  little  fools."  Then  she  forgot  her  disdain 
for  the  frivolous  mortals  for  so  long  as  it  took  her 
to  serve  them  for  the  second  time  with  snow  pud- 
ding. "  There  is  one  consolation,"  she  said  as 
she  returned  to  the  kitchen,  "  their  appetites  are 
good,  and  while  they  eat,  they  can't  talk." 

The  dusk  of  evening  was  wooing  the  night,  and 
Hester  and  Featherly  walked  slowly  along  the 
beach.  They  were  alone,  and  only  the  sea  was 
witness  to  Featherly's  earnest,  impassioned  plea. 

"  The  Eev.  Dr.  Coulton  I  can  trust,"  he  was 
saying,  "  we  were  school  fellows.  I  may  add  that 
I  made  it  possible  for  him  to  continue  his  studies. 
I  can  count  on  his  secrecy." 

Hester's  answer  was  almost  inaudible.  She 
begged  that  their  marriage  be  put  off  indefinitely. 
She  pointed  out  the  possibility  of  discovery,  and 
dwelt  upon  his  father's  anger  and  the  possible 
rupture  in  their  relations;  but  her  pleadings 
were  met  by  her  lover  with  his  gentle  but  firmly 
expressed  resolve  for  their  immediate  marriage, 
or  a  confession  to  his  father  and  appeal  for  his 
consent. 


56  Hester    Blair 

Hester  made  a  last  effort,  but  his  arms  were 
about  her  in  a  passionate  embrace. 

"  My  wife."  He  sighed  the  words  and  the  sea 
was  witness  to  his  vow — "  my  love,  my  only  love, 
my  wife." 


CHAPTER  V 

A   SECRET  THAT  A  LITTLE  CHILD   CAN   KEEP 

The  ways  of  Heaven  past  finding  are, 

'Tis  the  steady  gleam  of  the  pale  north  star, 

Directs  the  course  of  the  mariner  gray; — 

O'er  the  watery  waste  points  out  the  way. 

And  a  little  child  empowered  may  be, 

To  make  or  mar  life's  destiny. 

SALLY  PITTS,  after  much  thought,  arrived  at 
a  conclusion, — she  had  been  forgotten.   But 
far  from  being  cast  down,  or  resenting  the 
oversight,  she  kissed  Millie  good-night,  and,  bent 
on  departing  in  a  halo  of  good  nature,  sought  the 
one,  who,  above  all  others,  was  her  confidante 
and  ally — Slack.     She  did  not  have  far  to  go  to 
find  him.     The  fisherman's  quarters  were  in  the 
rear  of  the  house,  and  there  she  discovered  the 
object  of  her  search. 

Slack's  shanty  represented  a  porter's  lodge, 
overseer's  headquarters,  manager's  office,  and 
fisherman's  storehouse  combined.  It  differed  in 
one  essential  from  the  ordinary  fisherman's 
shanty.  In  one  corner  of  the  room,  which  em- 
braced the  whole  of  the  ground  floor  of  the  build- 
ing, instead  of  the  regulation  "  bunk  ",  stood  an 
iron  bed  covered  with  a  white  spread  and  linen  of 

57 


58  Hester    Blair 

fine  texture,  spotlessly  clean,  and  arranged  with 
a  woman's  skill.  In  Slack's  absence  the  work 
was  performed,  and  no  protest  on  his  part,  "  that 
she  needn't  be  so  dern  'ticular,"  dissuaded  Millie 
from  her  systematic  methods.  The  bed  was, 
however,  a  constant  reminder  to  the  occupant  of 
the  room  of  order  and  cleanliness;  and  it  stood 
apart,  a  mute  protest  to  the  general  disorder 
that  pervaded  the  room.  Fishing  nets,  rowlocks, 
oars,  torn  pieces  of  canvas,  sails,  a  full  rigged 
miniature  ship — Slack's  handiwork, — fowling 
pieces  and  parts  of  a  boat's  rigging,  were  strewn 
in  disorder  about  the  floor,  or  hung  in  remnants 
from  the  walls  and  ceiling.  On  the  table  was 
an  assortment  of  pipes  of  varying  ages  and 
styles,  from  a  clay  to  a  beautiful  meerschaum, 
undergoing  the  delicate  process  of  coloring.  On 
the  walls,  not  given  over  to  the  accumulation  of 
years  and  dust,  were  tacked  the  portraits  of  the 
pugilistic  celebrities  of  the  day.  These,  to  Mil- 
lie, were  an  offence  against  decency,  and  a  never 
failing  cause  for  complaint.  "  What  do  yer 
know  about  them  critters? "  she  would  scorn- 
fully demand,  "  yer  never  see  one  of  'em  in  yer 
life;  an'  as  fer  fightin' — yer'd  run  ef  one  uv  'em 
looked  at  yer."  To  which  pleasantries  the  fisher- 
man smiled  complacently,  and  replied  that  "  he 
guessed  he  would."  But  among  the  periodicals 
scattered  around  the  room  was  one  devoted  to 
sport;  and  among  Slack's  confidantes  it  was 
known  that  his  secret  visits  to  Portland  and 


A  Secret  That  a  Little  Child  Can  Keep  59 

Boston  always  occurred  when  an  exhibition  of 
the  fistic  fraternity  was  announced  in  either  city. 
Of  the  object  of  these  little  excursions  Slack 
maintained  a  discreet  silence;  and  the  addition 
of  new  photographs  to  the  collection  which 
adorned  the  walls,  passed  unnoticed  by  the  out- 
raged Millie. 

Sally  discovered  her  champion  seated  by  the 
open  window,  smoking. 

"  Good-night,  Slacky,"  she  said  as  she  ap- 
proached. 

Slack  took  the  pipe  that  he  was  smoking  in  his 
hand,  "  Yer  ain't  goin'  air  yer?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  I'm  goin'." 

"  But  it's  early,"  protested  Slack. 

"  O,  my  no !     It's  after  eight !  " 

"  Be  it?  "  Then  with  a  laugh :  "  I  know  why 
yer  goin'  so  soon, — yer  afeered.  Wan'  me  ter  go 
down  th'  hill  with  yer?  "  he  asked. 

A  long  drawn  out  "  no  "  denied  the  imputation 
of  fear. 

"  Sally,  yer  be  a  regular  torn-boy,  and  a  night 
owl  ter  boot." 

"  Isn't  that  funny?  "  she  laughed,  "  that's  just 
what  Dad  says."  Then  in  a  stage  whisper ;  "  Yer 
don't  know  what  Millie  said  about  you  to-night." 

Slack's  interest  was  deep  and  pronounced. 
He  hitched  his  chair  forward.  "  What  did  she 
say?  "  he  asked.  His  tone  of  interest  was  un- 
guarded. 

Now   Sally,   woman-like,   knew   that   her   in- 


60  Hester    Blair 

formation  would  lose  nothing  of  its  importance 
by  delay.  She  naively  demanded  conditions. 

"  You  won't  tell?  " 

"  Honor  bright !  "  vowed  Slack. 

"  O,  it's  too  funny !  "  She  wished  to  enjoy  her 
superior  knowledge  before  divulging  this  choice 
morsel.  She  was  aware  that  her  companion  was 
burning  with  impatience. 

"  Well,  Sally,  what  be  it?  "  Slack  again  asked. 

"  She  said—" 

"  Yes." 

"  She  said — you're  sure  you  won't  tell?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  you  see  I  told  Millie  you  were  awful 
good — " 

"  Did  yer?    What'd  she  say?  " 

"  She  said— O,  I  know  you'll  tell  Aunt  Millie." 
Certainly  it  was  worth  a  little  more  suspense.  She 
laughed  softly  and  put  her  arm  around  the  fish- 
erman's neck,  then  continued :  "  She  said  she 
thought  so  too.  There,  what  do  you  think  of 
that?  "  She  stepped  back  that  she  might  better 
observe  the  face  of  her  listener. 

"  She  didn't !  "  he  exclaimed  rapturously. 

"  Yes  she  did,  but  that  wasn't  all  she  said." 

"  No? "  he  exclaimed  gleefully.  A  look  of 
supreme  joy  overspread  his  features.  He  gave 
his  chair  another  hitch  forward.  "  What  else?  " 
he  asked. 

Sally  laughed,  and  in  a  mysterious  whisper 
answered : 


A  Secret  That  a  Little  Child  Can  Keep  61 

"  She  said  that  of  all  men  you  were  the 
slackest." 

"  Yes,"  drawled  Slack  with  mournful  convic- 
tion, "  'pears  ter  me  I've  heered  thet  before." 

"  Never  mind,"  laughed  the  child,  "  Millie  loves 
you  and  I  love  you,  and  we  all  love  you."  And 
with  this  declaration  of  universal  good  feeling 
she  was  off. 

Slack  sat  in  deep  meditation  until  the  night 
was  far  advanced.  He  had  seen  Hester  and 
Featherly  leave  the  house  and  go  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  village.  This,  in  itself,  however,  was 
a  common  occurrence.  For  the  past  few  months, 
they  had  devoted  much  of  their  time  to  each 
other's  society;  and  they  often  walked  in  the 
early  evening  to  the  village,  or  along  the  beach 
at  the  foot  of  the  bluff.  Not  only  was  their  in- 
timacy a  subject  of  remark  by  the  members  of  the 
Blair  family,  but  was  also  a  topic  of  gossip  in  the 
village. 

Slack  felt  keenly  for  John,  whom  he  had  known 
since  boyhood;  and,  realizing  the  depth  of 
his  love  for  Hester,  he  knew  the  blow  the  young 
lover  was  about  to  receive  would  strike  deep. 

Hester's  daily  intercourse  writh  Featherly 
would  lead  to  an  estrangement  between  John 
and  herself.  The  fisherman's  keen,  watchful  eye 
had  not  failed  to  discover  on  Hester's  part  an  un- 
conscious formality  in  her  treatment  of  John, 
which  was  in  marked  contrast  with  their  former 
relations.  That  John  did  not  fail  to  notice  the 


62  Hester    Blair 

change  in  her,  and  realize  its  import,  he  was  sat- 
isfied. He  saw  it  in  his  face,  but  by  neither  word 
nor  action  did  John  betray  his  feeling ;  although 
with  him,  doubt  was  becoming  a  certainty;  and 
the  future  he  had  lived  for  had  vanished.  Yet 
deeply  as  he  felt  for  the  young  lover,  much  as 
he  desired  the  fulfilment  of  what  he  had  always 
looked  upon  as  a  foregone  conclusion — John's 
marriage  with  Hester — he  was  powerless  to  inter- 
fere. He  mentally  counted  the  weeks  and  the 
days  until  the  end  of  the  summer  season,  with 
the  hope  that  with  the  departure  of  Featherly, 
normal  conditions  would  be  resumed,  and  Hester 
and  John  be  reunited.  With  these  thoughts  in 
his  mind  he  sauntered  leisurely  toward  the  house. 
Sally,  meanwhile,  was  walking  idly  along  the 
village  street,  wholly  unconscious  of  earthly 
things,  and  wondering  if  it  were  true  that  people 
lived  in  the  stars;  and  if  heaven  were  really  so 
beautiful,  why  people  should  be  afraid  to  die. 
These  were  odd  fancies  for  one  of  her  age  to  in- 
dulge in ;  but  Sally  was  an  uncommon  child.  She 
was  given  to  vague,  fantastic  ideas,  and  they 
found  many  and  varied  forms  of  expres- 
sion. Loneliness  appealed  to  her,  and  height- 
ened her  imagination.  Instead  of  seeking  as- 
sociates of  her  own  age,  she  was  much  with 
those  older  than  herself.  She  would  roam 
about  the  village  at  night,  and  from  choice, 
at  the  most  unusual  hours  and  places.  The 
village  church  was  one  of  her  favorite  haunts, 


A  Secret  That  a  Little  Child  Can  Keep  63 

and  here  her  father  often  found  her  sit- 
ting alone, — often  in  total  darkness.  She  knew 
no  fear,  and  the  quiet  solemnity  of  the  church, 
the  soft  moonlight  struggling  through  the  stained 
glass  windows,  and  the  air  of  mysterious  quiet, 
at  once  soothed  her,  and  gave  added  life  and  zest 
to  her  vivid,  childish  imagination.  She  could  not 
explain  the  desire  that  led  her  to  visit  the 
draughty,  barren  little  chapel,  other  than  that 
she  thought  and  saw  beautiful  things ;  and  won- 
dered that  her  listeners  could  not  enter  into  this 
unknown  world  with  her.  As  she  neared  the 
church  on  her  way  home,  she  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  enter.  A  light  was  burning  in  the 
vestry  at  the  far  end  of  the  church.  No  one  was 
to  be  seen,  although  she  heard  the  rear  door  close 
and  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  board  walk 
that  led  to  the  parsonage.  It  was  not  quite  dark 
in  the  church,  for  an  oil  lamp  in  the  vestry  threw 
a  faint,  sickly  light,  that  died  in  vaulted  space. 

Sally  seated  herself  near  the  door,  and  the  high 
backs  of  the  pews  almost  hid  her  from  view.  She 
watched  the  flickering  light,  and  wondered  why 
it  was  there ;  and  wished  that  someone  would  re- 
move it,  as  she  would  rather  be  in  the  dark. 

The  entrance  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Coulton  inter- 
rupted her  conjectures.  He  seemed  nervous  and 
preoccupied;  opened  the  door  many  times  and 
looked  out  expectantly ;  then,  arranging  the  writ- 
ing materials  on  the  table,  nervously  fingered  his 
watch. 


64  Hester    Blair 

He  was  a  man  with  an  almost  melancholy 
countenance,  scholarly  in  appearance,  and  had 
the  manner  of  one  who  regards  life  seriously. 
He  had  lent  himself  to  the  marriage,  asking  no 
questions,  and  with  entire  confidence  in  the  man 
who  had  befriended  him. 

Hester  and  Featherly  entered  by  the  front  door 
and  stood  directly  opposite  Sally. 

"  No,"  Featherly  was  saying,  "  it  is  safer  than 
to  go  to  the  parsonage;  besides  it  is  dark." 

"  This  secrecy  unnerves  me,"  Hester  replied. 
"  It  is  as  though  we  were  running  away." 

"  Courage,  Hester  dear,"  replied  Featherly, 
"  it  will  soon  be  over.  A  few  minutes  only  and 
we  shall  be  man  and  wife.  Come,  they  are  wait- 
ing." 

They  walked  down  the  aisle  of  the  church.  The 
minister  greeted  them  at  the  door  of  the  vestry. 

"  The  witnesses?  "  demanded  Featherly. 

"  Are  in  the  parsonage,"  replied  the  minister. 
"  I  will  call  them." 

Sally  crouched  in  the  corner  of  the  pew,  her 
eyes  bulging  from  their  sockets.  Was  this  real? 
Were  they  living  personages?  Yes,  it  was  Hes- 
ter's voice ;  she  was  equally  certain  of  Featherly. 
Married!  She  whispered  the  word  cautiously. 
The  sound  of  her  voice  filled  her  with  terror.  She 
feared  to  breathe,  and  her  heart  beat  until  she 
felt  she  should  scream.  She  placed  her  hand  over 
her  mouth,  and  with  a  determined  effort  tried  to 
think ;  but  the  enormity  of  the  whole  proceeding 


"  At   length   the  import  of  what  was  takini 
to  dawn  upon  her." 


place  began 


A  Secret  That  a  Little  Child  Can  Keep   65 

filled  her  with  inexpressible  confusion;  and  she 
gave  herself  up  to  watching  what  was  taking 
place.  What  if  she  should  sneeze  and  betray 
herself?  They  would  never  believe  she  was  there 
by  accident.  Holding  her  hand  more  tightly  over 
her  mouth,  she  listened  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Coulton 
as  he  read  the  marriage  service. 

At  length  the  import  of  what  was  taking  place 
began  to  dawn  upon  her.  Hester  married  and 
to  Mr.  Featherly!  John!  She  almost  spoke  the 
word  aloud.  Since  she  could  remember,  the 
names,  John  and  Hester,  had  been  associated. 
She  knew,  as  everyone  in  the  village  knew,  that 
they  had  been  lovers  since  childhood.  But  what 
did  all  this  mean?  She  was  half  inclined  to  doubt 
her  senses.  She  had  often  imagined  strange  things 
when  she  was  alone  in  the  church,  especially 
at  night:  had  seen  people  coming  and  going: 
heard  strange  music;  and  saw  beautiful  faces 
when  the  moon  shone  through  the  colored  glass. 
But  no.  By  the  lamp-light  that  shed  a  faint 
gleam  over  those  at  the  end  of  the  church,  she 
saw  Hester  and  Featherly  write  something  in  a 
book;  saw  the  minister  give  a  folded  paper  to 
Hester;  saw  two  men  go  out  through  the  side 
door,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Coulton  hold  the  lamp 
high  in  the  air  to  light  Hester  and  Featherly  to 
the  door.  Sally  waited  in  an  ecstasy  of  fear  for 
them  to  pass  out.  If  she  could  control  herself  for 
one  minute  longer,  she  would  be  safe. 

They  halted  in  front  of  where  the  child  was 


66  Hester   Blair 

sitting,  and  Featherly  placed  a  cloak  over  Hes- 
ter's shoulders. 

"  Hester,  love,  are  you  happy?  "  he  asked. 

"  So  happy !  "  she  replied,  "  but " 

"  If  it  will  add  one  degree  to  your  happiness  I 
will  tell  my  father  all.  I  know  he  will  forgive 
us." 

"  No,"  she  answered  in  a  tone  of  dread.  "  I 
have  made  a  vow  that  during  your  father's  life- 
time, I  will  not  disclose  our  marriage.  Promise 
that  you  will  keep  it  with  me." 

The  intensity  of  her  tone,  he  attributed  to  her 
nervousness. 

"  I  will,"  he  answered  solemnly. 

As  they  turned  to  leave  the  church,  the  neatly 
folded  paper  given  Hester  by  the  minister,  drop- 
ped to  the  floor. 

Sally  was  on  the  point  of  exclaiming,  but  con- 
trolled herself,  and  the  door  closed  upon  them. 
The  light  disappeared,  and  the  minister's  foot- 
steps on  the  board  walk  died  in  soft  echoes. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  Sally  dared  breathe 
naturally;  and  a  longer  time  before  she  moved 
from  her  cramped  position.  She  did  not  dread 
the  darkness,  but  the  awful  secret  which  had  been 
forced  upon  her,  filled  her  with  terror.  A  half 
hour  previous  what  had  been  rows  of  straight- 
backed  seats,  plain  gloomy  walls,  lonely  and  deso- 
late in  appearance,  prosaic  to  a  degree,  but  hav- 
ing certain  fascinations  to  the  little  dreamer, 
now  seemed  peopled  with  numberless  conspira- 


A  Secret  That  a  Little  Child  Can  Keep  67 

tors,  of  whom  she  was  the  leader.  The  rustle  of 
her  dress,  when  she  moved,  made  her  start  in 
terror ;  and  fear  that  was  new  and  strange,  took 
possession  of  her.  She  thought  she  heard  voices, 
and  was  preparing  to  leave,  but  she  could  not 
muster  up  courage  to  move.  A  night  bird  flut- 
tered against  the  window  and  she  crouched  in 
fright  at  the  sound.  The  clock  in  the  belfry 
struck  the  hour  and  reverberated  through  the 
empty  church  in  unearthly  sounds.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  it  would  never  cease  striking.  She  had 
often  listened  to  it  with  pleasure,  but  now  its 
brazen  tones  kept  ringing  in  her  ears. 

The  remembrance  of  the  paper  which  Hester 
had  dropped,  aroused  her,  and  with  trembling 
fingers  she  groped  about  on  the  floor  to  find  it. 
Yes,  it  was  there.  She  grasped  it  tightly  in  her 
hand  and  crept  cautiously  to  the  door.  Once  out- 
side, her  courage  returned  and  she  hastened 
homeward.  Should  she  give  it  to  Hester?  They 
would  never  believe  she  was  in  the  church  by 
accident.  No,  she  would  keep  it,  and  perhaps 
Hester  would  tell  her  that  she  had  lost  it,  and 
then — well  then  she'd  disclose  how  she  came  to 
find  it. 

Fear  not,  Hester.  The  ways  of  Providence  are 
past  all  finding.  It  has  given  your  secret  into  the 
keeping  of  a  little  child.  She  will  fulfil  the  trust. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"HO,  SLACKY!    YER  DON'T  SAY  YER  START 
TERMORRER?  " 

As  this  'ere's  a  time  momentious,  we'll  not  be  at  all  con- 
tentious, 
Will  yer  kindly  tell  us,  Slacky,  if  yer  mean  jest  what  yer 

say? 
Ef  yer  truly  air  a  groin',   why  er  course  we   don't  mind 

knowin' ; 

Though  yer  might  er  told  us,  Hirum,  all  about  it  afore 
to-day. 

THE  neutral  ground  where  all  questions  of 
private  or  public  interest  were  discussed 
with  reckless  freedom,  was  the  village  stora 
Here,  after  a  summer's  work,  the  fishermen  were 
wont  to  congregate  and  exchange  the  gossip  of 
the  country.  Naturally,  the  summer  visitors  re- 
ceived due  attention,  and  many  were  the  gibes 
and  coarse  jokes  indulged  in  at  their  expense. 
The  affairs  and  happenings  of  the  past  summer 
were  gone  into  in  all  their  different  aspects,  and 
the  shortcomings  of  all  were  touched  upon  with 
pitying  scorn.  Throughout  the  winter  the  dis- 
cussion went  on,  and  spring  found  the  contest- 
ants arrayed, — some  on  one  side,  some  on  the 
other,  each  upholding  the  views  he  entertained 
the  previous  fall,  their  opinions  divided  by  a  gulf 

68 


"Ho,  Slacky!"  69 

as  wide  and  deep  as  the  sea  they  fished.  They 
were  a  people  of  strong  convictions,  slow  temper, 
superstitious  to  a  degree,  and  with  a  moral  stand- 
ard as  rigid  as  their  minds  were  narrow. 

On  a  rainy  night  in  September  an  unusual 
number  were  assembled  in  the  store,  seated  on 
kegs  and  barrels,  or  lounging  against  the  counter. 
A  fire  in  a  large  iron  stove  glowed  cheerily;  for 
there  was  a  damp  chill  in  the  air,  and  an  oil 
lamp  sputtered  dimly  through  the  smoke-laden 
air.  Captain  Edwards  spat  on  the  floor,  and  ad- 
dressed his  listeners  generally. 

"  Tell  'em,"  he  exclaimed,  "  yer  kin  tell  'em 
same's  yer  kin  tell  a  mess  o'  fish, — by  looking  'em 
over.  Ef  they  be  a  good  lot  they  show  it,  and 
contry-wise." 

"  This  year's  crop's  a  pretty  scaly  mess,  I  call 
'em,"  Seth  Binks  rejoined. 

Fortune  had  not  smiled  on  Binks  the  past  few 
months,  and  his  opinion  of  the  departing  visitors 
was  tempered  by  a  lean  purse. 

"  O,  ther  wern't  so  bad,"  exclaimed  Portugese 
Joe,  "  I  managed  ter  charge  'em  double  price 
most  er  th'  time.  I  can't  complain." 

"  Huh !  "  drawled  Seth,  "  you'd  wring  money 
out  of  a  jellyfish." 

"  Well,"  droned  Joe,  "  thet's  what  they  came 
'ere  fer — ter  spend  money.  I  did  th'  best  I  could 
ter  help  'em."  With  a  chuckle  he  continued: 
"Yer  know  thet  feller  as  stayed  at  th'  hotel? 
What's  his  name?  Him  as  wore  his  pant-legs 


70  Hester    Blair 

rolled  up,  an'  talked  about  th'  glorious  sea  an'  all 
thet  balderdash." 

"  O,  you  mean  Mr.  Redfern,"  answered  Seth. 

"  Yes,  thet's  'em,"  exclaimed  Joe.  "  Well,  he'd 
been  er  botherin'  me  all  summer,  an'  I  was  good 
an'  sick  er  'im;  an'  th'  last  week  he  wer'  'er,  I 
thought  er  little  taste  er  th'  glorious  sea  wouldn't 
be  such  a  bad  thing  fer  'im  arter  all.  I  weighted 
th'  rudder  uv  my  boat  with  lead,  an'  rigged  it 
so's  it  would  sink  when  I  let  'er  go.  O,  I  hed  'er 
fastened  with  ropes!  I'm  not  losin'  rudders  fer 
'im.  A  stiff  breeze  wer7  blowin'  an'  a  bit  ef  a 
sea  was  on,  and  when  I  hed  'im  outside,  I  jest  put 
her  up  ter  th'  wind  an'  let  th'  rudder  go.  I  yelled 
ter  'im :  th'  rudder's  gone !  Well  thet  feller  turned 
a  pale  green.  We  wer'  shippin'  water  in  sheets 
an'  buckets  full,  and  I  hollered  ter  'im  ter  bail 
fer  his  life.  Ha,  ha,  ha,"  roared  Joe,  "  yer  shud 
er  seen  thet  landlubber  work !  In  two  minutes  he 
wer'  wet  ter  th'  skin.  I  kep'  'im  at  it  fer  nigh  on 
ter  half  an  hour  with  th'  boat  up  ter  th'  wind. 
Gum !  wasn't  he  a  sight !  When  I  thought  he  hed 
'nough  uv  th'  glorious  sea,  I  diskevered  thet  I 
could  steer  with  an  oar.  I  brought  'im  in,  an'  he 
fell  on  my  neck  thankin'  me  fer  saving  his  life. 
I  hev  his  picture  thet  he  give  me  ter  remember 
'im  by.  Ha,  ha,  ha,"  laughed  Joe,  "  them's  th' 
kind !  " 

The  roar  that  rewarded  Joe's  narrative  was  in- 
terrupted by  Captain  Edwards. 

"  They  do  make  yer  laugh,"  he  said,  "  with 


«Ho,  Slacky!"  71 

their  yachtin'  clo'se  'n  cheap  airs.  They  don't 
know  'nough  ter  bait  er  hook,  an'  es  fer  runnin' 
a  boat, — ef  I  couldn't  swim,  I  wouldn't  trust  my- 
self in  a  boat  with  one  of  'em  in  more'n  three  foot 
er  water.  But  I  must  'low  thet  th'  widder " 

Boisterous  laughter  greeted  his  allusion  to 
Mrs.  Pendleton. 

"  Better  not  let  th'  Commodore  hear  yer  speak 
of  th'  widder,"  yelled  Joe. 

"  Th'  captain  wer'  her  last  victim,"  Seth  cried. 

"  Well,"  broke  in  the  captain,  "  I  will  say " 

"  O,  course  yer  will.  Yer'll  swear  ter  it  ef  th' 
widder's  consarned,"  interrupted  a  voice. 

"  Don't  flatter  yerself,  Captain,"  cried  another, 
"  yer  only  th'  tenth.  There  be  others !  " 

"  Now,"  interrupted  th  captain,  "  ef  yer^ll  hold 
yer  yop,  I  was  about  ter  say  thet  th'  widder  was 
th'  senseblest  one  of  the  whole  lot." 

"  Yes,  an'  th'  best  lookin',"  declared  Joe,  "  right 
yer  air,  Captain,  we  don'  blame  yer  a  dern  bit; 
but  O  my!  don't  let  th'  Commodore  git  on  ter 
yer." 

A  cross  fire  of  desultory  remarks  was  indulged 
in  for  some  moments.  Taking  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  Seth  Binks  spoke: 

"  What  puzzled  me  was  why  this  yer  Fenton 
stayed  round  here  so  long?  " 

"  Well,"  drawled  Joe,  with  the  conscious  air  of 
a  "man  who  has  something  to  tell  of  more  than 
ordinary  interest,  "  p'r'aps  now  thet  they're  all 
gone,  I  can  enlighten  yer." 


72  Hester    Blair 

A  hush  of  expectancy  settled  on  the  group.  Joe 
continued : 

"  I  was  a  corkin'  my  dory  one  arternoon  on  the 
wharf  what's  used  for  a  landing  place."  A  com- 
prehensive nod  swept  the  group.  "  Yer  see,  thet 
dory  wer*  behind  er  pile  er  empty  barrels,  an'  yer 
couldn't  see  her.  I  was  workin'  away,  an'  I  sees 
this  yer  Fenton  comin'  'long  in  thet  steam  launch 
er  his,  an'  he  lands  on  th'  wharf.  Jest  as  he  do, 
I  hear  a  step  comin'  down  th'  wharf,  an'  I  could 
see  Slack  standin'  right  in  front  er  Fenton, 
though  neither  one  uv  'em  could  see  me.  Slack 
sez,  '  Mr.  Fenton,  I'd  like  er  word  with  yer.' 
With  thet,  Fenton  looked  Slack  over  scornful 
like,  an'  sez,  '  be  brief  my  man,'  er  hurry  up,  er 
somethin'.  Then  Slack  nearly  took  the  wind 
outer  my  sails,  he  sez : '  Yer  come  up  ter  th'  Blair 
farm  pretty  often  er  late.  What  d'yer  come  fer? r 
Then  Fenton  began  ter  take  some  interest.  He 
said  ter  Slack,  '  What's  this  damn  imperti- 
nence? '  '  Damn  impertinence  er  no,'  Slack  sez, 
'  I  ast  yer  a  civil  question  an'  I  want  a  civil  an- 
swer.' *  Who  in  hell  be  yer? '  ast  Fenton.  '  I 
have  a  right  ter  ask,'  Slack  sez,  '  an'  I  tell  yer 
agin,  I  want  ter  know  what  brings  yer  ther'  so 
often?'  They  stood  pretty  nigh  together.  Fen- 
ton was  smokin'  a  cigarette.  He  tuck  it  outer 
his  mouth,  an'  whether  or  no  he  meant  ter,  I  can' 
say,  but  th'  smoke  puffed  inter  Slacky's  face. 
Now  ef  ther's  one  thing  Slacky  don't  like  it's 
cig'rette  smoke,  an'  what  d'yer  think  he  did?  He 


"  Ho,  Slacky  !  "  73 

just  knocked  the  dum  thing  out  er  Fenton's  hand 
inter  th'  water.  Fenton  made  as  if  to  raise  his 
fist  ter  strike.  Slacky  sez — you  know  his  drawl — 
O,  it  wer'  beautiful!  He  sez  quiet  like,  yer 
know — "  Joe  looked  around.  His  listeners  to  a 
man  nodded  assent.  "  Jest  look  out  when  yer 
hear  it:  thet's  all  I've  got  ter  say.  Slacky  sez, 
*  I  wouldn't  do  thet  ef  I  wer'  you.'  Then  Fen- 
ton  sez,  an'  he  was  jest  bilin'  mad,  '  stand  aside.' 
Yer  see  th'  barrels  tuck  up  th'  hull  o'  th'  wharf 
an'  Fenton  couldn't  pass  Slacky.  Well,  Slacky 
sez — an'  yer  could  put  one  o'  them  barrels  atween 
each  word  they  wer'  so  slow  an'  soft  like, — l  easy 
er  minute!  I  want  ter  say  ter  yer,  thet  I  don't 
want  yer  ter  go  up  ter  th'  house  any  more, 
an'  thet  settles  it.  Now  think  it  over,  Mr.  Fen- 
ton, think  it  over.  Personally,  I  think  yer  a 
damn  rascal,  an'  ef  yer  do  go  ther'  again — well, 
we'll  settle  thet  th'  next  time  we  meet,  an'  it  '11 
be  damn  soon  arter.'  With  thet  shot  Slacky 
stepped  ter  one  side,  and  Fenton  walked  away 
an'  yer  shud  er  heered  'im  cuss." 

"  What's  Slacky  got  agin  Fenton?  "  demanded 
Binks. 

Joe  meditated  before  replying,  "  Well,  I  s'pose 
everyone  knowed  thet  he'd  tried  ter  ketch  onter 
one  er  th'  gals.  What  I  jest  tole  yer  took  place 
afore  Hessie  went  ter  New  York  ter  live." 

"  She  be  a  teachin'  music  ther',  ain't  she? " 
asked  one  of  the  fishermen. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Joe,  "  so  they  say." 


74  Hester    Blair 

"  Thet's  not  all  they  say,"  one  of  the  fishermen 
rejoined. 

Sam  Pitts  had  been  a  silent  listener  all  the 
evening.  Ordinarily  of  a  taciturn  disposition,  he 
rarely  entered  into  their  discussions  or  argu- 
ments. At  the  last  remark,  he  turned  quickly, 
and  confronted  the  speaker  with  flashing  eyes. 
He  was  not  easily  aroused  to  anger,  but  when 
crossed  was  a  most  formidable  adversary,  and 
was  shunned  by  the  fishermen  because  of  his 
violent  temper.  A  change  had,  however,  come 
over  Sam  in  the  last  few  months,  and  those  who 
knew  him  best  could  not  explain  it,  or  its  cause. 
He  had  stopped  drinking;  treated  Sally  with 
tender  consideration;  and  conducted  himself  in 
a  manner  unlike  the  Sam  of  the  past  few  years. 
His  reformation  dated  from  an  interview  with 
Hester  some  months  previous. 

For  the  past  month  Hester  had  been  living  in 
New  York.  It  was  generally  understood  that 
she  was  earning  her  living  teaching  music: 
but  the  gossips  in  the  village  were  busy  with  her 
name.  The  female  portion  of  the  community  in- 
sisted that  something  was  wrong;  and  wove  a 
network  of  mystery  about  her  manner  of  living. 
Sam  had  heard  this  gossip,  and  his  old  dogged - 
ness  came  to  the  surface. 

"  Yes,"  he  exclaimed  angrily,  "  they  say  mor' 
'n  ther  prayers,  damn  'em!  It  takes  a  woman 
ter  ruin  th'  name  er  one  of  'er  kind.  Ef  it's  not 
one,  it's  another:  now  it's  Hessie.  Their  damn 


"  Ho,  Slacky  ! "  75 

lying  tongues  ought  ter  be  pulled  out  by  th'  roots. 
I  tell  yer  " — his  hand  came  down  on  the  counter 
with  the  force  of  a  trip  hammer  and  set  the 
glasses  on  the  shelves  to  jingling — "  I  tell  yer  a 
woman's  th'  fust  cousin  ter  th'  devil — leastwise 
one  thet  gossips  is." 

No  one  in  that  gathering,  even  if  they  differed 
from  Sam,  cared  to  argue  the  point  with  him. 
After  a  moment's  silence  someone  said: 

"  Where  be  Slacky  these  days?  " 

As  if  in  answer  to  the  question,  the  door 
opened,  and  Slack  walked  into  the  room. 

"  There,"  exclaimed  Joe,  "  talk  about  the  devil 
— yer  know  th'  rest  uv  it." 

"  And  he's  sure  ter  appear,"  continued  Cap- 
tain Edwards,  "  Slacky,  how  air  yer?  " 

"O,  middlin'  good,"  Slack  replied.  "What 
were  you  fellers  sayin'  about  me?  " 

"  Nothin'  thet  yer'd  like  ter  hear,  Slacky,"  an- 
swered Joe  with  a  laugh.  "  How  be  all  the 
folks?" 

"  Pretty  good,"  answered  Slack,  "  leastwise 
they  were  when  I  last  heered.  When  I  get  ter 
New  York,  I'll  let  yer  know  more  'ticular." 

"  When  Slacky  gets  ter  New  York !  ho,  ho,  ho, 
ho,"  they  roared,  "  when  Slacky  gets  ter — ha,  ha, 
ha,  ter  New  York,  he,  he,  he,  an'  goes  sailing 
down  th'  Bowery,  ha,  ha,  ha." 

Joe's  voice  evolved  from  the  maelstrom  of 
mirth  provoking  gibes. 

"  They  won't  do  a  thing  ter  'im,"  he  shouted. 


76  Hester    Blair 

"Put  up  at  the  Waldorf  -  Asteria  ?"  yelled  a 
voice. 

"  Yer  kin  wear  my  silk  tile,"  volunteered  an- 
other, "  they  ketch  chaps  like  you  in  a  net.  Ho, 
ho,  ho,  when  der  yer  start?  " 

The  answer  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  unruffled 
Slack.  "  Termorrer." 

Laughter  gave  place  to  consternation. 

"  What,  yer  don't  mean — termor — no,  yer 
jokin'!" 

"  Termorrer,"  repeated  Slack  blandly. 

They  were  not  wholly  convinced ;  yet  they  knew 
Slack's  manner  of  stating  facts.  They  were  non- 
plussed for  the  moment;  and  a  hush  settled  on 
the  assembly. 

"  Now  Slack,  none  yer  foolin',"  broke  in  Joe. 
No  one,  however,  knew  better  than  Joe  that 
Slack  was  in  earnest.  "Yer  ain't  jokin'?"  Joe 
queried. 

"  No,"  came  the  laconic  reply. 

Consternation  was  stamped  on  every  face. 
They  looked  into  each  other's  eyes;  then  their 
gaze  was  fixed  in  a  stare  of  incredulous  wonder 
on  the  half-smiling  countenance  before  them. 
Here  was  an  event;  a  subject  of  discussion  that 
would  tax  their  best  reasoning  faculties  for 
weeks,  yes  months  to  come.  They  quickly  jumped 
to  the  conclusion  that  Slack's  departure  must 
have  some  connection  with  Hester.  But  what? 
That  was  the  question  they  would  be  called  upon 
to  determine.  For  the  present  it  was  their  plain 


"  Ho,  Slacky  !  "  77 

duty  to  draw  from  Slack  some  further  informa- 
tion upon  which  to  build  their  conjectural  struc- 
tures. Of  ascertaining  the  plans  or  intentions  of 
the  wily  Slack,  they  had  but  slight  hopes.  It 
was  a  delicate  undertaking.  Joe,  with  an  in- 
sidious smile,  began  the  attack. 

"  When  be  yer  acomin'  back?  " 

"  Dunno,"  replied  Slack  with  a  smile. 

Realizing  the  difficulty  of  ascertaining  the 
truth,  and  the  probable  length  of  time  necessary 
to  draw  Slack  out,  Joe  changed  his  plan  of  pro- 
cedure. Addressing  the  proprietor  of  the  store, 
he  said:  "Bern'  this  is  a  moment'us  occasion, 
an'  not  knowin'  when  we  are  to  see  our 
friend  Mr.  Hiram  Dorkins  agin  (even  Slack 
started  as  his  Christian  name  was  uttered) 
yer  might  bring  on  some  ole  cider,  Char- 
ley, an'  some  crackers  'n  cheese,  an'  we'll 
celebrate  th'  event  as  it's  beflttin'  we 
shud." 

When  the  cider  had  many  times  gone  round, 
Joe  assumed  his  sweetest  smile  and  returned  to 
the  attack. 

"  Yer  be  comin'  back?  " 

"  Mebby,"  Slack's  tone  of  unconcern  was  mad- 
dening. 

Joe  gulped  down  half  a  tumblerful  of  cider. 
His  eyes,  over  the  top  of  the  glass,  measured 
Slack  from  top  to  toe.  He  met  the  glance  with  a 
look  of  childlike  candor.  Joe  became  desperate 
at  his  nonsuccess.  He  blurted  out: 


78  Hester    Blair 

"  Don't  mean  ter  be  inquisitive  Slacky,  but 
what  yer  goin'  there  fer?  " 

"  Ter  work,"  quietly  answered  Slack. 

Emboldened  by  his  success  and  the  hard  cider, 
Joe  went  a  step  further: 

"  What  doin'?  "  he  asked. 

"  D'n  know." 

"  Well,  yer  know  who  yer  goin'  ter  work  fer?  " 

"  Yaas,"  drawled  Slack. 

"Who?"  queried  Joe,  leaning  forward  with 
ill-concealed  interest. 

"  Well,"  replied  Slack  with  an  air  of  commis- 
eration, "  being  considerate  by  nature,  an'  know- 
ing yer  pumping  process  must  er  fatigued  yer, 
s'pose  we  wet  up  round  with  some  er  Charley's 
Pine  Tree  Champagney." 

This  suggestion  was  acted  upon  with  alacrity. 
Joe's  countenance  wore  a  crest-fallen  air: — his 
success  so  far  was  not  pronounced.  Slack  could 
with  difficulty  suppress  a  smile.  His  nonchalant 
indifference,  and  the  effect  of  the  hard  cider,  was 
telling  on  his  companions: — the  one  upon  their 
patience;  the  other  affecting  their  heads.  When 
he  thought  their  curiosity  sufficiently  aroused, 
and  their  thirst  momentarily  allayed,  he  spoke: 

"  Well,  ef  yer  be  interested  in  a  little  matter 
like  my  goin'  ter  New  York,  o'course  I  don't  say 
yer  be,  but  if  yer  air,  an'  I  never  expected  yerM 
care  a  fishhook  one  way  or  t'other,  I  don't  mind 
tellin'  yer,  thet's  'lowin'  yer'd  care  ter  know " 


"  Ho,  Slacky  ! "  79 

"  O,  come  ter  th'  pint ! "  Joe  exclaimed  impa- 
tiently, "  come  ter  th'  pint !  " 

With  an  aggravating  drawl  Slack  continued: 
"  Joe,  yer  be  th'  most  impatient  man  I  ever  seed. 
You  must  understand  thet  patience's  a  virtue, 
an'  yer'll  never  hev  a  better  time  ter  practise  it 
then  right  now."  With  laughing  eyes  but  a 
placid  face,  he  continued :  "  As  yer  done  me  th' 
honor  ter  want  ter  know  what  I'm  goin'  ter  do 
in  New  York,  I  don't  mind  tellin'  yer  thet  I'm 
goin'  ter  work  fer  Mr.  Featherly." 

If  Slack  had  wished  to  create  a  sensation,  the 
reception  of  this  announcement  must  have  glad- 
dened his  heart — the  effect  was  instantaneous. 
The  look  of  surprise  stamped  on  every  counte- 
nance, was  followed  by  a  consuming  thirst,  and 
to  the  last  man,  they  drowned  their  chagrin  at 
not  having  even  guessed  this  remarkable  state  of 
affairs,  in  copious  draughts.  One  of  their  num- 
ber, overcome  by  the  suddenness  of  the  news  or 
the  age  of  the  cider,  rolled  from  his  chair  to  the 
floor  with  an  utter  disregard  of  the  eternal  fit- 
ness of  things. 

A  storm  of  questions  followed  with  breathless 
rapidity,  precluding  any  possibility  of  receiving 
individual  response.  They  all  talked  at  once; 
and  by  common  consent  and  united  action,  strove 
to  drown  their  consuming  thirst  and  conflicting 
feelings  of  curiosity,  chagrin,  and  the  envy  that 
burned  within  them,  with  the  year-old  cider. 


80  Hester   Blair 

They  gave  vent  to  their  enthusiasm  in  character- 
istic and  manifold  ways ;  to  the  detriment  of  bar- 
rel-heads and  various  bits  of  crockery  that  rattled 
from  the  shelves,  in  response  to  the  vociferous 
pounding  on  the  counters,  and  the  general  up- 
setting of  things.  Between  periods  in  the  de- 
struction— for  the  cider  was  getting  in  its  work 
— they  assured  Slack  that,  "  they  knew  dern  well 
soon's  they  heered  Hessie  'd  gone  ter  New  York 
as  how  he'd  be  agoin  on  ther."  To  which  intelli- 
gence the  smiling  Slack  assured  them  "  thet  he 
was  satisfied  that  they  knew  all  about  it;  an' 
thet's  why  he  hadn't  mentioned  it  before."  And 
they  pounded  the  assurance ;  "  thet  they  knowd 
it  all  'long,"  in  lusty  unison,  till  the  glasses  rat- 
tled protestingly  and  spilled  some  of  the  good 
cider  abroad. 

Someone  discovered  that  the  hour  was  late  and 
the  cider  was  strong, — for  even  cider  has  the 
power  of  asserting  itself,  and  they  took  a  de- 
viating course  to  the  door ;  but  returned  to  drink 
Slack's  health  for  the  twentieth  time. 

Slack  assured  them  that  he  would,  before  his 
departure  on  the  morrow,  be  pleased  to  see  them 
all,  individually  and  collectively,  and  shake  them 
by  the  hand.  "  Not,"  he  added,  "  thet  they  cared  a 
rap  where  he  went  er  what  he  did,  but  it  was  a 
univusal  custom."  Then,  smiling  sweetly,  he 
drawled  a  "  good-night,"  and  was  gone. 

Joe  looked  long  and  vacantly  at  the  door  that 
closed  after  the  retreating  Slack. 


"Ho,  Slacky!"  81 

"  Dern  me,"  he  muttered,  "  but  he's  aggravat- 
ing !  "  Then  with  a  mournful  expression  he  con- 
tinued, "  an'  we  never  even  'spected  it." 

Charley  blew  out  the  light  as  a  gentle  hint  that 
it  was  closing-up  time. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HESTER    HEARS    OF    SLACK'S    PLEASANTRIES    WITH 
THE   COACHMAN 

New  scenes,  new  friends!     Think  you  they  fill 
The  heart,  the  life,  with  the  sweet  thrill 

Of  long-  ago? 

Can  we  replace  the  old  with  new? 
Sweet  memory  rings  the  answer  true: 

No,  no,  ah,  no. 

IT  was  the  early  part  of  December.     For  two 
months  Hester  and  Ralph  Featherly  had 
been  living  in  New  York  City.  Two  months 
of  happiness,  marred  only  by  the  fear  that  their 
marriage  might  become  known. 

They  paid  for  their  happiness  the  price  de- 
manded by  an  exacting  world — eternal  vigilance. 
What  first  seemed  to  them  an  easy  task,  de- 
veloped almost  unsurmountable  difficulties,  that 
multiplied  as  time  went  by. 

The  first  link  in  the  chain  of  a  double  life  was 
installing  Hester  in  suitable  quarters,  but  this 
was  quickly  overcome.  Featherly  was  the  owner 
of  considerable  residential  property;  and  a  cosy 
flat  near  his  home  was  ready  for  Hester's  occu- 
pancy when  she  arrived.  It  contained  a  studio 
suitable  for  a  music  teacher.  This  was  to  be  the 
cloak  on  which  they  depended  to  cover  the  truth, 
and  to  appease  the  suspiciously  inclined.  Here 

82 


Hester  Hears  of  Slack's  Pleasantries     83 

Featherly  spent  most  of  his  time ;  and  they  were 
very  happy. 

This  mode  of  life,  however,  was  distasteful  to 
Hester  in  the  extreme.  Deceit  and  double  deal- 
ing were  foreign  to  her  nature ;  and  the  constant 
fear  that  their  relations  might  be  discovered,  was 
a  source  of  apprehension  that  fretted  her  nerves 
into  a  state  of  irritability. 

But  so  perfect  was  her  self-control,  that  Feath- 
erly was  unconscious  of  the  feeling  of  restless- 
ness that  possessed  her.  She  never  alluded  to 
the  dread  of  discovery  that  filled  her  waking 
hours,  fearing  that  her  husband,  giving  way  to 
his  impulsiveness,  and  to  his  desire  to  make  her 
entirely  happy,  might  confess  their  marriage  to 
his  father.  Whatever  slight  hope  she  had  enter- 
tained of  the  elder  Featherly  becoming  recon- 
ciled to  his  adopted  son's  marriage,  she  was  now 
satisfied  that  they  were  beyond  the  hope  of  for- 
giveness. It  was  not  the  rupture  between  father 
and  son  that  she  most  feared;  but  the  effect  of 
the  announcement  on  her  husband  that  no  tie  of 
blood  existed  between  them, — that  he  was  a  son 
only  by  adoption. 

The  elderly  Featherly  had,  at  the  time  of  his 
second  marriage,  transferred  large  property  in- 
terests to  his  adopted  son.  Time  and  judicious 
management  had  increased  the  value  of  this  es- 
tate, until  the  younger  Featherly  was  wealthy 
in  his  own  right. 

Slack    had    been  for  the  last  two  months  in 


84  Hester    Blair 

Featherly's  employ.  It  was  agreed,  however, 
that  he  was  to  return  to  Norton  in  the  spring. 
His  true  station  was  difficult  to  determine.  At 
the  office  and  at  Featherly's  house  he  was  known 
as  the  "  skipper,"  but,  as  his  employer's  yacht 
had  been  out  of  commission  for  some  months,  his 
duties  were  neither  burdensome  nor  exacting. 
Featherly's  determination  to  employ  Slack,  was 
not  founded  alone  on  personal  regard  for  the 
brawny  fisherman.  It  was  Hester's  complete 
confidence  in  Slack,  and  her  affection  for  him, 
that  prompted  Featherly  to  make  the  proposition 
that  the  fisherman  had  accepted,  and  it  was 
Slack's  desire  to  be  near  Hester  that  induced  him 
to  leave  Norton  and  make  his  home  in  New 
York.  City  life  was  distasteful  to  him.  He  was 
cramped  by  his  surroundings,  and  ill  at  ease. 
But  no  word  of  complaint  was  heard.  Smilingly 
complacent,  he  performed  his  duties — and  his 
employer's  ingenuity  was  taxed  to  invent  them — 
with  a  fidelity  and  a  tact  that  was  as  original  as 
it  was  complete. 

John  Gary  seldom  saw  Hester.  For  the  past 
month  he  had  been  employed  in  fitting  out  a  new 
boat  for  his  uncle,  which  was  nearing  completion 
in  one  of  the  Maine  shipyards.  He  made  fre- 
quent visits  to  Norton,  but  these  visits  were  pro- 
ductive of  neither  profit  nor  peace  of  mind ;  for 
the  gossips  of  the  village  were  busy  with  Hester's 
name,  and  he  always  came  from  there  filled  with 
resentful  indignation. 


Hester  Hears  of  Slack's  Pleasantries     85 

Ethel  was  at  a  boarding  school  for  the  winter. 
Millie  was  in  charge  of  the  Blair  home,  and  the 
time  not  occupied  with  the  care  of  the  house,  was 
given  over  to  fretful  conjecture  as  to  what  Slack 
was  doing:  and  when  she  had  a  listener,  to  the 
positive  assertion  that  she  knew  something  dread- 
ful w^ould  happen  to  him,  "in  that  dreadful 
place."  And  no  assurance  from  her  listeners  that 
"  Slacky'd  come  pretty  nigh  ter  takin'  care  uv 
hisself,"  mollified  her. 

The  pitfalls  of  a  large  city  were  dwelt  upon ; — 
the  spinster's  excited  imagination  inventing  most 
horrible  and  unheard  of  temptations  and  dan- 
gers. "  Why,"  she'd  exclaim,  "  it  ain't  safe  ter 
go  out  after  dark,  and  yer  know  how  terri- 
bly unsuspectin'  Slacky  be.  He's  as  inner- 
cent  as  a  child,  an'  as  careless ; "  and  she 
fretted  the  weeks  away  in  ominous  forebod- 
ings. 

The  subject  of  Millie's  fears  was,  in  the  mean- 
time, in  his  own  peculiar  way,  acquiring  knowl- 
edge of  city  life  and  of  worldly  ways  at  a  rapid 
rate.  Theatres,  concert  halls  of  various  degrees 
of  excellence  and  of  no  fixed  moral  standard, 
were  visited  by  the  doughty  fisherman.  "  I'm 
here,"  he  declared,  "  an'  I'm  goin'  ter  see  th'  hull 
show."  Nor  were  these  excursions  always  with- 
out incident.  The  stamp  of  his  vocation  was 
upon  him ;  and  his  ambling  gait,  huge  frame  and 
uncouth  manner,  furnished  amusement  that  he 
rather  enjoyed  than  resented.  Beyond  that 


86  Hester    Blair 

point,  however,  it  was  not  safe  to  tread;  as  a 
few  broken  heads  bore  evidence. 

It  was  evening.  Hester  sat  at  the  piano,  and 
her  hands  strayed  lightly  over  the  keys,  evoking 
a  progression  of  harmonious  chords  from  which 
a  quaint  melody  was  evolved. 

Featherly  entered  softly  and  pressed  his  cheeks 
to  hers. 

"  O !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  you  startled  me." 

"  Did  I?  "  he  said.  "  Then  I'll  punish  myself : 
— instead  of  two  kisses  I'll  take  but  one." 

"  But  why,"  asked  Hester  laughingly,  "  pun- 
ish me?  I'm  not  the  offender,  and  the  other  kiss 
belongs  to  me." 

"  Here  is  a  dilemma !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  we'll 
have  to  put  off  the  punishment  indefinitely.  Now 
little  woman,  I  discovered  a  plaintive  note  in 
your  playing.  You've  been  thinking." 

"  Yes,  Ralph  dear,  I  was  thinking  how  happy 
we'd  be,  if  your  father  knew  of  our  marriage, 
and  was  reconciled." 

"  Hester,  love,  I  will  tell  him  to-morrow.  I 
know  he'll  forgive  us." 

"  No,"  she  declared  in  a  determined  tone.  "  It 
is  too  late.  Besides,  your  promise." 

"  O,  what  a  determined  little  puss  you  are," 
Featherly  answered,  "  but,  remember  love,  I  have 
not  exacted  any  such  condition.  Let  it  be  as  you 
say.  Tell  me,  Hester  love,  are  you  happy?  " 

"  Happy !  "  she  replied,  "  yes,  so  happy  that 
I  fear  to  think " 


Hester  Hears  of  Slack's  Pleasantries    87 

"  What  cause  have  you  to  fear?  What  can 
come  between  you  and  happiness?  " 

"  I  know  Ralph,  dear ;  but  such  a  train  of  mis- 
fortunes followed  our  marriage:  the  death  of 
your  young  friend,  the  curate,  who  performed 
the  ceremony;  the  destruction  of  the  parsonage 
and  the  church  records  by  fire ;  the  disappearance 
of  the  only  witnesses;  the  loss  of  our  marriage 
certificate " 

"  Tut,  tut,  you  are  gloomy  to-night,"  he 
laughed,  "  tell  me,  have  you  heard  from  home?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  sadly,  "  they  believe  me 
earning  my  living  teaching  music." 

"  That's  too  good !  "  he  laughed,  "  but  it's  true, 
isn't  it?  Haven't  you  a  studio?  Don't  you  re- 
ceive pupils?  Am  I  not  one  of  your  pupils?  " 
With  the  utmost  seriousness  he  continued,  "  I 
don't  know  what  you  do  with  all  the  money  you 
earn.  O,"  he  laughed,  "  it's  too  good !  " 

"  I  know  love,  but  it's  deception ;  and  really 
at  times  I  feel  guilty " 

"  You  are  guilty,"  he  exclaimed  embracing  her, 
"  not  at  times,  but  all  the  time — of  being  my  wife, 
my  lovely,  lovable,  loving  wife.  Do  you  know, 
Hester,  when  I  go  to  my  place  of  business,  I  open 
the  desk  in  my  private  office,  and  inside  I  have—- 
what do  you  think  I  have?  " 

"  Papers?  "  she  asked. 

"  No." 

"  Books?  " 

"  No,  your  portrait !    For  no  other  eyes  than 


88  Hester    Blair 

mine.  And  when  I  look  at  it,  I  say  to  an  imagin- 
ary friend,  my  dear  sir,  allow  me  to  present  you 
to  my  wife;  and  I  say  it  softly,  again  and  again. 
Ah!  but  the  portrait  can't  compare  with  the 
original ! " 

"  Ralph  dear,  how  foolish  of  you,  and  we  have 
been  married  nearly  four  months." 

"  Foolish?  I  believe  the  world  would  consider 
me  so;  not  for  being  in  love;  but  for  being  in 
love  with  my  own  wife.  It  does  seem  strange  in 
this  age  of  divided  devotion.  But  tell  me,  love, 
what  did  Millie  say  in  the  letter?  " 

Hester  laughed  softly.  "To  tell  the  truth," 
she  answered,  "  her  letter  was  mostly  devoted  to 
expressing  her  fears  for  Slack's  safety." 

Featherly  laughed  long  and  loud.  Certain 
episodes  concerning  Slack  had  come  to  his  knowl- 
edge ;  and  they  were  of  a  character  that  dispelled 
any  doubt  of  Slack's  ability  to  take  care  of  him- 
self. 

"  Write  to  Aunt  Millie,"  he  said,  "  not  to  worry 
about  Slack."  Then  in  a  reminiscent  mood,  he 
continued,  "  dear,  tender  hearted  Millie ;  yet  she 
withholds  from  Slack  the  word  that  would  make 
him  the  happiest  of  mortals.  Do  you  know, 
Hester,  I  have  feasted  on  the  best  from  Parisian 
cafes  to  the  oriental  restaurants  of  Hong  Kong, 
and  never  found  anything  equal  to  Millie's  pump- 
kin pies." 

"  Her  cream  biscuits !  "  Hester  exclaimed. 

"  O,  her  cream  biscuits !  her  jelly-rolls !    How 


Hester  Hears  of  Slack's  Pleasantries     89 

did  she  make  the  jelly-rolls?  Fit  for  the  gods! 
And  her  roast  chicken!  Never  was  such  roast 
chicken ;  and  the  dressing !  Mystery  of  mysteries. 
Just  enough  sage,  a  dash  of  onion " 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Hester. 

"  But  the  plum-pudding " 

"  Ah !  the  plum-pudding !  " 

"  With  real  plums " 

"As  large  as  that,"  said  Hester,  holding  up 
two,  beautifully  shaped  fingers. 

"  Oh !  "  exclaimed  Featherly. 

"  Ah !  "  rejoined  Hester. 

"  Such  pudding !  " 

"  Such  sauce !  " 

"  Couldn't  we  have  Millie  send  us  a  plum- 
pudding,  Hester  dear?  " 

"  Why  yes,  love,"  she  answered. 

"  And  when  you  write  don't  forget  to  ask  her 
to  send  some  biscuit." 

"  Is  that  all,  love?  " 

"  Well,"  he  rejoined  with  a  satisfied  air,  "  that 
will  do  for  the  present." 

They  fell  to  discussing  their  home  life  at  Nor- 
ton and  were  very  happy.  The  light  from  a  large 
piano  lamp,  softened  by  a  Japanese  shade,  filled 
the  room  with  a  warm,  yellow  glow  of  color. 
Hester  resumed  her  playing;  and  Featherly 
threw  himself  on  the  couch  and  listened  to  the 
soft  harmonies  that  filled  the  room.  She  knew 
what  appealed  to  him  and  played  on  and  on; 
and  he  listened  with  contentment  stamped  on 


90  Hester    Blair 

his  features.  In  the  middle  of  a  plaintive  melody 
he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  Hester  abruptly 
stopped  playing  and  turned  to  him  with: 

"  Why  Ralph,  what  is  it?  I  haven't  laughed 
to-night.  Pray  don't  keep  it  all  to  yourself." 

For  a  moment,  Featherly  could  not  control 
himself,  then  spoke  brokenly,  laughing  between 
each  sentence. 

"  Hester,  dear,  I  told  you  my  coachman  had 
left  me." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  But  I  didn't  tell  you  why  he  left." 

"  No." 

"  Well,  I'd  decided  to  say  nothing  about  it,  but 
Millie's  letter  and  her  fear  for  Slack  is  too  much. 
You  see,  my  former  coachman,  who  is  an  English- 
man with  a  very  florid  countenance,  is  conceited 
in  the  extreme.  The  first  week  after  Slack's  ar- 
rival he  was  at  the  house  most  of  the  time.  I'm 
fond  of  Slack,  and  I  like  to  have  him  with  me  to 
talk  to.  You  understand?  " 

"  Yes,"  smiled  Hester. 

"  Well,  the  coachman,  for  some  reason,  did  not 
take  kindly  to  Slack,  for  as  you  know,  when  he 
arrived,  he  did  not  look  wrhat  might  be  called  city 
bred." 

"  No,"  laughed  Hester,  "  he  didn't." 

"  The  coachman,  who  is  a  capable,  though  over- 
bearing man,  improved  every  opportunity  to  poke 
fun  at  Slack,  assured  him  that  it  wouldn't  be  safe 


Hester  Hears  of  Slack's  Pleasantries     91 

to  go  out  alone,  and,  emboldened  by  Slack's  show 
of  absorbing  all  the  ridiculous  advice  he  offered, 
became  rather  personal  in  his  remarks.  Slack 
stood  his  treatment  for  about  a  week.  What  fol- 
lowed I  gathered  from  the  footman.  Slack  re- 
fused to  talk,  and  I  couldn't  believe  Joseph,  the 
coachman.  The  footman's  version,  to  quote  him 
as  well  as  I'm  able,  was  like  this :  i  I  'eered  Jo- 
seph laughin'  very  loud,  sir,  and  then  I  'eered  'im 
a  howlin'  an'  cryin'  murder,  an'  I  runs  out  sir, 
an'  ther'  wer'  Mr.  Dorkins  a  playin'  foot-ball  wi' 
Joseph;  an'  Joseph's  nose  was  runnin'  blood  in 
a  stream,  sir.  'E  tossed  'im  about  sir,  as  ef  'e  wer* 
a  tennis-ball,  then  'eld  'is  'ead  under  the  faucet 
till  Joseph  begged  sir,  thet's  all  I  know  sir! ' 
Ha,  ha,  ha,"  laughed  Featherly,  "  I  believed  every 
word  of  it  when  I  saw  Joseph  three  minutes  after 
the  set-to,  for  he  was  a  sight  to  behold !  " 

Astonishment  prevented  Hester  from  replying 
for  some  seconds.  "  Slack !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  It 
seems  incredible!  What  did  he  say?  " 

"  Told  me  he  hadn't  had  so  much  fun  since  he 
had  the  measles."  Featherly's  laugh  rang 
through  the  room. 

"But  you  reprimanded  him?"  Hester's  tone 
was  severe. 

"  Em,  well,  you  see,  Joseph  demanded  Slack's 
discharge.  I  quietly  explained  to  Joseph,  that 
much  as  I  felt  inclined  to  grant  his  request,  it 
was  impossible,  as  Slack  was  a  near  connection; 


92  Hester    Blair 

and,  that's  how  I  lost  my  coachman.  I  then  or- 
dered Slack  into  the  library " 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  Hester  expectantly. 

"  And,"  continued  Featherly,  "  we  drank  a 
bottle  of  champagne  together." 

"  And  you  said  nothing  to  him?  " 

"  Only  to  drink  his  health,"  he  laughed,  "  Slack 
refused  to  talk  of  the  encounter  further  than 
to  say  that  '  the  lobster-faced  Englishman  was 
too  dern  easy ! ' 

"  Ralph  dear,  you'll  spoil  Slack !  "  Hester's 
tone  was  reproachful. 

"  Hester  love,  believe  me,  Slack  has  long  since 
passed  the  age  when  spoiling  is  possible.  He  is 
as  well  seasoned  inside,  as  is  his  tough  weather- 
beaten  face.  I  have  no  better  man  in  my  employ : 
— no  one  whom  I'd  more  readily  trust  to  carry 
out  an  order,  with  absolute  surety  of  its  proper 
performance  than  Slack ;  allowing,  of  course,  it 
were  within  the  scope  of  his  ability.  As  far  as 
Joseph  is  concerned,  he  received  his  just  deserts ; 
and  my  regret  in  the  matter,"  he  laughed,  "  is 
that  I  missed  the  fun."  Featherly  received  a  re- 
proving look  that  melted  into  a  smile. 

"  Hester,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  "  some  of  our 
friends  are  coming  to  call  to-morrow  evening, 
and  Aunt  Carry  wants  you  to  be  present.  Quite 
an  informal  little  affair,  music  and  tea " 

"  Ralph,"  she  replied,  "  I  dread " 

"Pooh!"  he  exclaimed,  "you  know  them  all, 
Mrs.  Pendleton,  Fenton  and  the  rest." 


Hester  Hears  of  Slack's  Pleasantries     93 

"  Hester's  face  clouded.  She  disliked  Fenton, 
and  in  a  sense,  feared  him.  She  had  met  him  at 
her  husband's  home ;  and  his  insinuating  manner 
was  particularly  offensive  to  her.  Often  she  had 
discovered  his  gaze  fixed  upon  her ;  and  her  self- 
control  had  been  taxed  to  its  utmost.  Her  con- 
stant fear  of  discovery  made  her  abnormally  sen- 
sitive; and  she  imagined  that  he  suspected  her 
relations  with  Peatherly.  Another  cause  for 
anxiety,  was  her  husband's  unguarded  manner 
towards  herself  when  in  the  company  of  their 
friends.  She  had  expostulated  with  him,  but  he 
always  laughed  at  her  fears,  assuring  her  that 
she  was  needlessly  alarmed.  Hester  had  never 
spoken  to  her  husband  of  her  feelings  toward 
Fenton;  but  she  was  ill  at  ease  in  his  com- 
pany, and  avoided  him  as  far  as  was  possible, 
without  giving  actual  offence. 

"  Of  course,  I  will  go  if  you  wish  it,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  almost  dread  meeting  people ;  you  are 
so — so " 

"  Well,"  he  interrupted,  "  I  am  so  what?  " 

"  Unguarded,"  she  replied. 

"  Dear  me !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  Unguarded ! 
Why  I  feel  as  if  we  were  living  in  an  atmosphere 
charged  with  treason;  with  plots  for  the  over- 
throw of  the  existing  form  of  government;  and 
of  designs  against  the  lives  of  our  friends.  I 
have  to  weigh  each  word  I  utter,  until  I  am  actu- 
ally contracting  the  stammering  habit.  I  want 
to  cry  out  our  marriage  from  the  housetops ;  in- 


94  Hester    Blair 

vite  all  our  friends  to  witness  our  happiness,  and 

—and " 

"  Ralph  dear,"  Hester  interrupted,  "  it  is  ten 
o'clock." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MRS.  PENDLETON  :      "  AND  THEY  MADLY  LOVE  EACH 
OTHER !  " 

"And  how  they  love!     No  voice,  no  tongue 

Could  tell  the  rapture  that  they  know. 
The  dears!     Ah,  me!     I  too,  was  young; 
And  not  so  very  long  ago." 

IT  was  early  evening  of  the  following  day. 
Featherly  and  Dr.  Raddy  were  seated  in 
the  library  of  Featherly's  home.  The  doc- 
tor, who  had  been  the  family  physician  for  the 
past  twenty-five  years,  was  a  smooth  faced,  pleas- 
ant featured  little  man  of  sixty,  and  enjoyed  the 
confidence  of  both  father  and  son.  His  manner 
was  blunt  and  outspoken;  and  he  scowled  un- 
speakable things  at  his  patient. 

"  My  dear  doctor,"  said  Featherly,  "  you  are 
a  prince  of  good  fellows,  but  you  consider  it  your 
duty  to  lecture  me  weekly  about  my  mode  of  liv- 
ing. I  would  be  seriously  concerned  about  my 
health,  were  it  not  that  I  don't  believe  half  that 
you  say.  Now  isn't  it  a  fact  that  you  exaggerate 
the  danger?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  answered  the  doctor  gruffly. 
"  You  must  stop  this  thing.  You  don't  realize — " 

"  Yes  I  do,"  laughed  Featherly,  "  of  course  I 
do.  Haven't  I  stopped  it?  I  drink  only  the  most 

95 


96  Hester    Blair 

harmless  kind  of  wine;  I  limit  my  smoking  to 
eight  cigars  a  day " 

Dr.  Baddy  threw  up  his  hands  in  disgust. 
Featherly  continued :  "  I  lead  a  most  exemplary 
life " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  broke  in  Dr.  Raddy,  "  a  most  ex- 
emplary life!  And  you  are  to  entertain  a  few 
friends  to-night.  A  few  friends!  Don't  I  know 
what  that  means?  Music!  Dancing!  Excite- 
ment !  Don't  talk  to  me  about  a  few  friends.  I 
was  young  myself  once.  Bah ! "  Featherly 
laughed  and  walked  to  the  doctor's  side. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  were 
as  gay  as  any  of  them?  You  are  not  yet  old, 
doctor." 

"  There,  there,  I  can't  make  you  understand 
that  your  heart " 

"  That's  just  it,"  Featherly  answered  with  a 
merry  laugh,  "  the  heart  you  have  patched  up, 
tinkered  with  and  kept  going  for  the  past  num- 
ber of  years,  I  have  lost ;  and  I  have  acquired  pos- 
session of  one  as  sound  as  a  gold  dollar  fresh 
from  the  mint.  It  beats  with  the  precision  of  an 
eight-day  clock,  and " 

"  Dash  your  nonsense !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor 
excitedly,  "  must  I  tell  you  again " 

Featherly  raised  his  hand  with  a  deprecating 
gesture.  "  No !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  in  Heaven's 
name  don't!  Let  me  tell  you  something: — fol- 
lowing your  very  excellent  advice  to  avoid  excite- 
ment, I  have  taken  up  the  study  of  music." 


Mrs.  Pendleton  97 

"  Yes,"  came  the  scoffing  reply,  "  the  study  of 
music-halls.  I  know  the  kind  of  music  you 
study." 

"  Quite  wrong,"  Featherly  laughed,  "  I  am 
studying  the  piano!  I  devote  all  my  spare  time 
to  it.  I  expect  my  preceptress  shortly." 

"  Fiddlesticks !  "  ejaculated  the  doctor. 

"  No,  no,"  expostulated  Featherly,  "  not  fiddle- 
sticks— piano,  piano !  " 

"  Em-m !  "  muttered  the  doctor.  "  I  have  no 
patience  with  you." 

Further  reprimand  was  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance of  Aunt  Carry.  She  beamed  on  Dr. 
Raddy,  whom  she  held  in  high  esteem,  and  shook 
his  hand  warmly. 

"  My  dear  Dr.  Raddy,"  she  said,  "  how  glad 
I  am  to  see  you!  Have  you  lectured  this 
boy?" 

"  Aunty  dear,"  answered  Featherly,  "  the  doc- 
tor never  lectures.  He's  too  good-natured." 

"  I'm  out  of  patience  with  him ! "  the  doctor 
exclaimed. 

Aunt  Carry  answered,  "  We  must  allow  he's 
doing  better.  When  he's  at  home — which  is  not 
often — he's  strumming  on  the  piano.  It's  turn,  ti, 
turn, — turn,  te,  te,  turn,"  she  held  up  her  hands 
and  went  through  the  motions  illustrative  of 
piano  playing.  Then  with  an  air  of  assumed  an- 
noyance :  "  He  nearly  drives  me  mad !  " 

"  Now  will  you  believe  me?  "  asked  Featherly 
of  the  doctor  in  a  tone  of  triumph. 


98  Hester    Blair 

The  doctor  turned  sharply  to  the  young  man, 
then  to  Aunt  Carry. 

"  He's  away  from  home  much  of  his  time,  you 
say?  " 

"  Yes,"  Aunt  Carry  replied,  "  studying  the 
piano,  he  says." 

"  Lady  teacher?  "  The  doctor's  voice  had  a 
rising  inflection.  He  looked  sharply  at  Peath- 
erly,  who  laughed  softly. 

"  A  charming  person  whom  we  visit  summers,''' 
Aunt  Carry  replied.  "  At  present,  she's  living 
in  New  York,  teaching  music." 

"  Ha ! "  ejaculated  the  doctor  in  a  tone  that 
implied  that  further  explanation  was  unneces- 
sary. 

Aunt  Carry,  misinterpreting  his  meaning,  laid 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  She  looked  anxious. 
"  You  don't  think  it  injurious  to  his  health?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Em !  "  growled  the  doctor,  casting  a  look  at 
Featherly,  "  I'll  have  to  watch  the  symptoms." 

"  Miss  Blair  is  coming  shortly,"  Aunt  Carry 
said. 

"  To  give  me  my  music  lesson,"  added  Feath- 
erly. He  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  to  raise 
the  doctor's  ire,  and  winked  at  him  knowingly. 

"  Bah !  "  was  his  reward,  uttered  in  a  disdain- 
ful tone.  "  So  you  have  quit  the  tra,  la,  la,  for 
the  tra,  la,  le."  The  doctor  danced  a  few  steps, 
which  moved  Aunt  Carry  to  such  a  degree  that 
she  joined  him,  until  he  looked  up  with  a  con- 


Mrs.  Pendleton  99 

fused  expression,  as  if  discovered  in  an  act  en- 
tirely out  of  keeping  with  his  professional  dig- 
nity. 

"  Very  good,"  laughed  Featherly,  "  perhaps 
you'll  consent  to  stay  and  spend  the  evening  with 
us.  Charming  company,  I  assure  you." 

"  Humph,"  came  the  answer.  "  Young  man,  I 
know  you ! " 

Hester  appeared  at  the  door.  "  Pardon  me," 
she  said,  "  they  did  not  tell  me  that  you  were  en- 
gaged." 

"  The  doctor  just  dropped  in  for  a  social  chat," 
said  Featherly.  He  stood  behind  Hester,  and 
signalled  to  the  doctor  to  say  yes.  The  doctor 
took  his  hat  from  the  table.  Featherly  con- 
tinued :  "  You  see,  Miss  Blair,  the  doctor  is  a 
great  lover  of  horses,  and  we  were  just  discussing 
Mr.  Blake's  new  purchase." 

"  I  was  saying  to  Mr.  Featherly," — began  the 
doctor.  Featherly  interrupted. 

"  The  doctor  was  inviting  me  to  look  at  Blake's 
horse.  He  says  it  is  bound  to  make  a  record. 
You  see,  Miss  Blair — "  Featherly  was  shaking 
the  doctor's  hand  violently  and  forcing  him  to- 
ward the  door — "  the  doctor  hasn't  forgotten  his 
horse-racing  days.  Have  you  doctor?  " 

The  doctor  did  not  answer,  but  bowed  to  the 
ladies  and  took  his  leave ;  from  the  hall,  shaking 
his  fist  at  Featherly,  whose  laugh  followed  him 
to  the  door. 

"  Hester,  dear,"  said  Aunt  Carry,  "  I'm  glad 


ioo  Hester   Blair 

you  came  early.  It's  another  music  lesson  I 
suppose ;  and  you  young  people  won't  allow  spec- 
tators." 

"  Do  remain,  Aunt  Carry,"  said  Hester. 

Featherly  put  his  arin  about  his  aunt  and  led 
her  to  the  door. 

"  Aunty  dear,"  he  said,  "  I  love  you,  and  I 
dearly  love  to  be  with  you — "  he  paused,  then 
continued,  "  except  during  music  lessons." 

She  smiled  at  Hester  and  went  out 

"  Ralph,"  anxiously  inquired  Hester  when  they 
were  alone.  "  Why  does  the  doctor  call  so  often? 
You  are  not  ill?" 

"  My  dear,"  he  replied,  "  how  little  you  know 
of  doctors.  Of  course  I'm  not  ill ;  but  Dr.  Raddy 
sends  in  a  yearly  bill  of  enormous  length,  and  he 
must  do  something  to  earn  it :  so  he  drops  in  and 
talks  of  horse  racing  and  politics,  and  gives  me  a 
little  advice.  What  do  you  think  he  recom- 
mended to-day?  " 

"  I  couldn't  guess,"  she  replied. 

"  A  trip  to  Europe,"  he  answered  blandly. 

"  A  trip  to  Europe?  "  she  asked  with  interest. 

"  Exactly,"  replied  Featherly,  "  just  what  we 
had  planned  for  next  summer.  Isn't  he  a  dear 
old  fossil?  But  I  forgive  him,  because  he  gives 
no  physic ;  and  his  advice  is  of  the  most  agreeable 
kind." 

"  Ah,"  exclaimed  Hester,  "  I'm  sure  he's  a 
good,  kind  soul." 

"  Good !   Why,  he's  worth  his  weight  in  gold ! 


Mrs.  Pendleton  101 

I  mean  his  visits  are.  He  comes  in  pleasantly; 
talks  of  social  affairs;  smokes  one  of  my  very 
good  cigars;  forgets  to  feel  my  pulse;  advises  a 
trip  to  Europe;  looks  very  professional  when 
about  to  go — all  doctors  must  do  that,  of  course 
— and  departs  smiling.  At  the  end  of  the  year 
the  bill  comes  in — Jan.  23d — advice,  $25.  O,  it's 
a  great  profession,  filled  to  overflowing  with 
great  frauds,  and  upon  my  honor  Dr.  Raddy  is 
one  of  the  biggest!  But  I  forgive  him,  he's  so 
good  natured  about  it." 

"  And  was  that  all  he  said  to-day?  " 

"Quite!  Wasn't  it  enough?  You  didn't  ex- 
pect him  to  advise  a  trip  around  the  world?" 

"  But  didn't  he  say  you  were  not  quite  so  well 
as " 

"  O,  dear  no,"  came  the  calm  reply,  "  he  didn't 
have  time  to  talk  of  my  health.  But  about  my 
music  lesson!  My  dear,  we  are  wasting  time 
talking  of  frivolous  matters.  Do,  sol,  fa,  mi," 
he  sang;  then  seating  himself  at  the  piano,  he 
drew  forth  most  horrible  and  nerve-racking 
sounds. 

Whether  Featherly  acted  wisely  or  justly  in 
keeping  from  Hester  the  knowledge  of  his  true 
physical  condition  is  difficult  to  determine.  No 
doubt  can  be  entertained  of  his  purpose,  which 
was  to  save  her  from  what  he  deemed  unneces- 
sary worry.  He  had  been  told,  many  times,  that 
he  was  afflicted  with  an  organic  disease  of  the 
heart  that  might  terminate  fatally.  He  had  been 


IO2  Hester    Blair 

warned  against  excitement,  and  forbidden  the 
use  of  stimulants  or  tobacco.  As  he  expressed 
it,  "  he  had  been  hedged  in  by  conditions  that 
were  worse  than  the  disease."  He  laughed  at  the 
advice  given  him,  declared  that  the  doctor  didn't 
believe  what  he  said,  and  went  on  his  way  en- 
joying life  to  the  top  of  his  bent.  The  elder 
Featherly  was  aware  of  his  son's  condition ;  but 
the  young  man  laughed  away  his  father's  advice 
and  fears,  telling  him  that,  "  Dr.  Eaddy  was  an 
alarmist  and  only  fit  to  administer  to  cats  and 
old  women,"  which  latter  assertion  he  did  not  in 
the  least  believe.  He  disliked  all  reference  to  his 
health ;  and  his  aunt,  respecting  his  wishes,  never 
referred  to  it  except  in  the  presence  of  Dr. 
Raddy. 

The  music  lessons  were  more  a  source  of  pleas 
ure  than  of  profit,  musically.  Featherly's  at- 
tempts at  acquiring  the  art  took  the  form  of  ad- 
miration of  Hester's  hands,  caresses  promiscu- 
ously bestowed  on  her  neck,  hair  and  cheeks ;  and 
a  fixed  purpose  to  converse  upon  any  subject  ex- 
cept music — but  from  choice,  Norton.  He  naively 
remarked  that  music  was  a  growth,  and  it  was 
unhealthy  to  force  it  by  extraordinary  exertions ; 
and  he  would  add,  "  how  much  pleasanter  it  was 
to  talk." 

There  was  just  sufficient  peril  in  their  daily  in- 
tercourse to  lend  a  zest  and  fascination  to  his 
life.  He  did  not,  like  Hester,  fear  the  result  of 


Mrs.  Pendleton  103 

discovery,  and  were  it  not  for  her  sake,  he  would 
almost  have  welcomed  it. 

They  kept  up  a  desultory  attempt  at  music, 
varied  by  much  laughter,  until  further  progress 
was  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Pendleton's  voice. 

"  My  dear  Aunt  Carry !  I'm  delighted !  Music 
lesson!  Do  you  believe  Ralph  could  ever  learn 
to  play  a  piano?  "  Aunt  Carry's  answer  was  un- 
intelligible. 

"  Don't  believe  it ! "  Mrs.  Pendleton  rejoined. 
"  He  hasn't  one  particle  of  music  in  him.  But 
(laughing)  he  has  excellent  taste  and  judgment 
in  his  selection  of  a  teacher.  I  must  go  in  and 
see  the  dears !  "  and  Mrs.  Pendleton  bustled  into 
the  drawing-room  all  smiles  and  kisses  and — 
well,  it  was  good  to  see  her  once  more. 

"  Hester  dear,  you  don't  know  how  happy  it 
makes  me  to  see  your  dear  face  again." 

That,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  a  woman's 
speech,  and  was  quite  what  was  expected  of  her. 
Nine  out  of  ten  women,  knowing  Hester,  and 
entering  the  room,  would  have  said  the  same 
thing — varying  only  the  phraseology.  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton differed  from  most  women; — she  meant 
what  she  said.  With  equal  candor  she  addressed 
Featherly. 

"  Ralph,  tell  me,  you  aren't  seriously — but  no ! 
impossible!  ha,  ha,  ha." 

Her  silvery  laugh  vibrated  through  the  room 
filling  their  hearts  with  joy,  and  died  in  little 


1 04  Hester    Blair 

waves  of  sound.  It  was  honest  mirth,  and  good 
to  hear.  She  continued ;  "  Music !  Divine  Art ! 
When  did  you  discover  the  spark  burned  within 
you?" 

"  If  you  doubt  my  ability,"  he  answered  with 
mock  austerity,  "  pray  allow  me  to  demon- 
strate— " 

"  No !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  In  Heaven's  name, 
don't!" 

How  near  the  truth  Mrs.  Pendleton  guessed 
when  she  considered  the  relations  existing  be- 
tween Hester  and  Featherly  is  only  conjectural. 
It  will  never  be  known ;  for,  again,  unlike  most 
women,  she  was  not  given  to  speaking  her 
thoughts,  or  of  telling  that  which  she  did  not 
know ;  which  went  to  prove  that  she  was  a  most 
uncommon  representative  of  her  sex.  She  was 
quite  satisfied  to  view  their  attachment  from  a 
seemingly  disinterested  distance,  and,  not  losing 
a  single  tell-tale  look,  word,  or  the  love  signs 
which  she  knew  so  well,  appeared  to  be  wholly 
unconscious  of  what  was  taking  place  in  the  little 
love-wTorld  of  Hester  and  Featherly.  They  were 
quite  satisfied  that  they  were  deluding  the 
universe;  and  self-conscious  to  a  degree,  of  their 
profound  caution  and  cleverness.  "  The  dears," 
she'd  whisper  to  herself,  "  aren't  they  lovely ;  and 
they  believe  they  are  the  only  two  people  on  earth 
who  know  of  their  happiness.  They  remind  me 
of  two  school  children  who  have  been  up  to  some 
mischief,  and  sit  down  to  the  supper  table  under 


Mrs.  Pendleton  105 

the  eyes  of  a  mamma  who  was  once  young  herself. 
It's  perfectly  delightful  to  watch  them.  She's 
suffering  from  fright,  and  a  desire  for  conceal- 
ment, of  what,  I  cannot  say;  he  doesn't  seem  to 
care  if  all  the  world  knows  he's  rapturously 
in  love  with  her, — and  I  shouldn't  think  he 
would.  She's  lovely!  Ah,  me!  /  was  once 
young,  and  not  so  long  ago."  Turning  her  head 
archly  to  one  side,  she  stealthily  glanced  into  a 
mirror,  which  reflected  the  lines  of  her  beauti- 
fully moulded  neck,  and  sighed  satisfactory  ap- 
proval. 

"  Tell  me,  Hester,"  Mrs.  Pendleton  asked, 
"  does  he  make  an  attempt  at  playing?  " 

"  Indeed  yes,"  Hester  replied,  looking  up  at 
Featherly,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  in  un- 
conscious admiration.  The  blood  danced  to  her 
neck  and  cheeks,  and  she  flashed  a  reproachful 
glance  at  him.  Mrs.  Pendleton  took  occasion  to 
give  way  to  silvery  laughter  that  brought  the 
guests  into  the  room — inquiring  interest  stamped 
on  their  faces,  as  to  the  cause  thereof. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   RECEPTION 

The  mad  intoxication  of  the  dance, 
And  sounds  enchanting,  to  the  revelry, 
Lend  sensuous  aid. 

THE  drawing-room  of  the  Featherly  house 
was  unique.  The  furnishings  denoted  ex- 
treme good  taste, — from  the  Khursan  and 
Karmen  rugs,  and  the  soft,  velvety  textures  from 
Turkman  that  covered  the  floor,  to  the  stuccoed 
ceiling,  ablaze  in  bronze  and  gold.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  tapestries  of  exquisite  designs 
— specimens  of  a  master's  craft.  On  one  side  of 
the  large  room  hung  a  Gobelin, — a  Venetian 
scene;  on  the  opposite  wall  was  a  Beauvais,  rep- 
resenting a  court  dance  during  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV. ; — both  priceless  specimens  of  the  art  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  A  few  paintings  adorned 
the  walls,  but  these  were  representatives  of  the 
owner's  knowledge  of  art  and  of  his  good  judg- 
ment,— for  they  were  masterpieces.  It  was  dis- 
tinctly a  bachelor's  apartment;  yet  there  were 
little  touches  here  and  there  that  betrayed  a 
woman's  hand;  and  Aunt  Carry's  supervision 

106 


The  Reception  107 

was  unobtrusively  manifest.  The  effect  of  it 
all  was  an  air  of  luxurious  comfort,  soothing  to 
the  senses  and  pleasing  to  the  eye. 

The  guests,  eight  or  ten  in  number,  entered 
unannounced,  singly  and  in  pairs.  Featherly 
rose  and  smiled  his  welcome. 

"  My  dear  Featherly,"  said  one  of  the  gentle- 
men, "  We  believed  we  should  be  the  first  to  ar- 
rive. You  see,  Miss  Blair,"  he  said,  turning  to 
greet  Hester,  "  our  host  encourages  us  in  drop- 
ping in  on  him  unannounced.  With  him,  where 
formality  begins,  friendship  ends." 

Featherly  answered,  "  Friends  who  are  wel- 
come need  no  announcing ;  others  may  not  enter. 
This  is  the  border-land  of  Bohemia." 

In  the  most  informal  manner  they  exchanged 
greetings.  They  were  a  representative  New  York 
gathering  of  the  young,  wealthy,  and  cultured 
class.  Enjoyment  was  their  chief  occupation; 
and,  beyond  discussing  the  latest  popular  novel, 
new  play  or  opera,  their  mental  activity  was 
neither  far  reaching,  nor  exercised  to  the  danger 
point.  They  were  mostly  ciphers  in  the  social 
and  intellectual  fabric ; — their  butterfly  existence 
spiced  with  a  little  vicious  gossip;  the  entry  of 
a  new  face  or  the  dropping  out  of  an  old  one. 
Their  world  revolved  within  the  radius  of  a  few 
dozen  families  whose  origin  was  enveloped  in 
clouds  of  disputed  facts;  whose  ancestors,  with 
a  woman's  kindly  desire  to  particularize,  were 
referred  to  as  dairy  maids  on  the  one  side,  and  on 


io8  Hester   Blair 

the  other,  trades  people,  not  remarkable  for  their 
high  moral  standard  in  methods  or  means  of  ac- 
quiring wealth.  But  these  little  whispers,  that 
were  never  meant  to  be  overheard,  did  no  par- 
ticular harm;  and  added  a  relish  to  their  lives 
that  was  highly  palatable. 

A  group  of  three  or  four  ladies  were  talking  to 
Hester.  The  gentlemen  were  in  earnest  discus- 
sion near  the  door  that  led  to  the  large  dining 
hall.  Miss  Ainsley  spoke: 

"  My  dear  Miss  Blair,  we  have  been  listening  to 
the  romance  of  Mr.  Dorkins  and  your  old  house- 
keeper. Let  me  see,  Mollie  is  her  name?  " 

"  Millie,"  corrected  Hester. 

"  Dear  me,  of  course !  And  this  Mr.  Dorkins 
is  a  famous  boatsman  and  fisherman,  and  quite  a 
character." 

"  Why,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Pendleton,  "  didn't 
you  know  that  he's  living  in  New  York?  He's  in 
Mr.  Featherly's  employ." 

"  Impossible !  "  exclaimed  the  first  speaker  in 
a  tone  of  surprise  that  was  refreshing  in  its  un-; 
guarded  naturalness  and  manifest  interest. 

"  Quite  possible,"  affirmed  Mrs.  Pendleton. 

Miss  Ainsley,  in  whom  Slack  had  awakened  a, 
consuming  interest,  interrogated  Hester  with  her 
eyes. 

Hester  answered  quietly,  "  He  has  been  with 
Mr.  Featherly  for  the  past  month." 

"Here!    in  this  house?"  exclaimed  a  guest. 


The  Reception  109 

"  Ladies !  The  hero  of  the  twenty  years'  love 
romance ! " 

"  Imagine  a  New  Yorker,"  exclaimed  another, 
"  being  constant  in  his  devotion  for  twenty 
years ! " 

"  Impossible !  "  came  from  a  chorus  of  voices. 

The  gentlemen  looked  up.  "  What  is  impossi- 
ble? "  Fenton  asked.  "  Do  not  all  speak  at 
once." 

Miss  Ainsley  answered,  "  We  were  saying 
that—" 

"  Well,"  interrupted  Fenton,  "  we  are  all  at- 
tention. Surely  such  unanimity  of  opinion 
among  ladies,  must  be  something  that  the  gods 
could  not  dispute." 

"  We  were  remarking — "  answered  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton,  "  after  listening  to  Slack's  love  romance, 
how  impossible  it  would  be  for  a  New  Yorker  to 
be  constant  in  his  devotion  for  twenty  years." 

"  It  would  be  impossible,"  Fenton  rejoined, 
then  aside — "  to  the  same  woman.  Surely  you 
do  not  expect  it?  "  he  asked  in  a  louder  tone. 

"  Shocking !     Of  course  we  do !  " 

"  There  is  one  less  constant  than  the  New 
Yorker,"  affirmed  Fenton. 

"  And  that  one?  "  queried  Miss  Ainsley. 

"  The  New  Woman,"  he  answered  with  a 
laugh. 

A  servant  entered  with  coffee  and  wine. 

"  Then  I  propose  a  toast  to  the  New  Woman ! " 


no  Hester    Blair 

volunteered  Miss  Ainsley.  Her  declaration  was 
met  with  exclamations  of  derision  from  the  gen- 
tlemen. 

"  I  will  take  water,"  declared  Fenton. 

"  And  why  water,  my  dear  Fenton?  " 

"  Nothing  can  be  too  pure  for  the  New 
Woman,"  he  rejoined  with  a  laugh. 

"  Featherly  raised  a  glass  of  wine  in  the  air 
and  recited  sotto  voce.: 

"  And  I,  to  her,  deep  will  I  drink  the  toast; 
And  ask  of  evils,  which  to  dread  the  most: 
The  one,  that  age  doth  give  the  fire  of  youth; 
The  other,  always  new,  yet  ag-e  forsooth 
Adds  not  the  charm  to  life  that  this  can  boast." 

A  chorus  of  applause  rewarded  Featherly's 
effort, 

"  My  dear  Mi*.  Featherly ! "  said  Miss  Ains- 
ley, "  surely  you're  not  going  to  deny  us  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Dorkins;  'twould  be  as 
refreshing  as  a  trip  to  Norton." 

Featherly  laughed.  Slack's  appearance,  ar- 
rayed in  his  "  best  suit,"  wras  fresh  in  his  mem- 
ory. Still,  he  was  not  certain  that  it  would  be 
agreeable  to  the  fisherman  to  meet  his  guests; 
nor  did  he  wish  to  place  Slack  in  an  embarrass- 
ing position;  although  he  was  satisfied  that  his 
guests  would  treat  the  fisherman  with  the  cour- 
tesy that  good  breeding  demanded,  he  was  not 
wholly  reconciled  to  the  proposition.  He  sought 
to  interrogate  Hester  with  his  eyes,  but  she  was 
conversing  with  Mrs.  Pendleton,  and  apparently 


The  Reception  in 

seemed  unconscious  of  the  request  which  Miss 
Ainsley  had  made. 

The  suggestion  being  enforced  by  the  other 
guests,  Featherly  replied : 

"  I  will  invite  him  to  join  us  if  you  desire  it. 
I  will  speak  to  him." 

A  shade  of  annoyance  passed  over  Hester's 
face.  She  said  nothing,  but  she  felt  that  Slack 
would  be  uncomfortable  and  ill  at  ease ;  and  she 
feared  that  the  amusement  which  his  uncouth 
and  awkward  appearance  would  excite  would  be 
noticeable  to  the  keen-eyed  fisherman;  still  she 
felt  that  she  could  not  object,  as  the  request  had 
been  made  with  seeming  sincerity.  Apart  from 
his  personal  appearance,  she  was  satisfied  that 
the  wily  Slack  would  conduct  himself  not  only 
with  propriety,  but,  with  a  thrill  of  pride,  she 
knew  that  his  ready  wit  and  nimble  tongue  would 
disconcert  anyone  who  measured  his  intellect  by 
his  clumsy,  rough  exterior. 

Since  Slack  had  entered  Featherly's  employ, 
he  had  been  treated  more  like  a  guest,  or  a  con- 
fidential equal  by  his  employer,  than  a  servant. 
No  one  realized  this  more  fully  than  the  fisher- 
man. There  was  a  friendly,  though  unspoken, 
understanding  between  them;  and  each  showed 
the  respect  and  consideration  that  their  confi- 
dence in  each  other  awakened.  Featherly  recog- 
nized Slack's  sterling  qualities  of  heart  and 
mind ;  he  knew  the  fisherman  loved  Hester  as  a 
daughter ;  and  that  she  regarded  him  with  affec- 


112  Hester   Blair 

tion.  It  was  this  mutual  regard  that  induced 
Slack  to  come  and  live  with  him, — that  he  might 
be  near  her.  Apart  from  this,  he  was  fond  of 
him.  The  quaint,  blunt  manners  of  the  fisher- 
man had  appealed  to  his  sense  of  humor;  and  a 
closer  acquaintance  awakened  respect,  that  had 
grown  into  sincere  regard. 

The  conversation  and  laughter  ceased  as 
Featherly  and  Slack  entered  the  room.  Feath- 
erly  introduced  Slack  to  each  of  the  company 
with  the  same  formality  he  would  have  employed 
with  any  social  equal. 

"  Mr.  Fenton  needs  no  introduction,"  Feath- 
erly said  as  he  concluded,  "  you  have  met  be- 
fore." 

"  Yaas,"  answered  Slack  turning  to  Fenton, 
"  'pears  ter  me  we  hev,  hevn't  we?  " 

Fenton  nodded  his  head,  and  a  faint  smile 
played  about  his  mouth  as  he  recalled  their 
meeting  on  the  wharf. 

Slack  was  dressed  in  the  same  suit  of  clothes 
that  he  had  brought  from  Norton.  The  coat  was 
many  sizes  too  large,  the  trousers  distinctly 
baggy,  and,  contrary  to  country  custom,  much 
too  long.  The  legs  of  the  trousers  were  narrow 
at  the  bottom  and  rested  on  his  generous  sized 
boots, — a  progression  of  wrinkles  and  loose  cloth 
from  his  waist  down.  His  dark  colored  coat 
and  trousers  were  relieved  by  a  cravat  and  waist- 
coat of  daring  colors.  His  hair  betrayed  fruit- 


The  Reception  113 

less  efforts  at  combing, — but  it  showed  there  had 
been  an  effort. 

The  music  from  a  string  band  in  the  adjoining 
room  came  through  the  door. 

"  Ladies,  can  you  resist  that  waltz?  "  asked 
Fenton. 

"  It  is  divine,"  answered  Miss  Ainsley. 

Fenton  offered  her  his  arm,  and  followed  by 
the  others,  they  were  soon  whirling  past  the  open' 
door  to  the  music  of  a  Strauss  waltz. 

Slack  seated  himself  beside  Hester.  They  were 
alone. 

"  Slacky,  dear,"  she  said,  "  tell  me  truly,  how 
do  you  like  it?  " 

He  looked  into  her  eyes.  She  was  very  dear  to 
him  and  he  spoke  softly : 

"  Hessie,  I'd  give  more  fur  one  day  at  home 
with  you  an'  Ethy  an'  Millie,  'n  er  whole  lifetime 
er  this." 

She  patted  one  of  his  huge  hands  with  her  own. 
"  I  know  you  would,  Slacky  dear,"  she  answered, 
"  it  won't  be  long  before  summer,  and,  O  Slack !  " 
she  continued  in  a  doleful  tone,  "  won't  Millie 
fret  her  life  away  before  then?  " 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha,"  laughed  Slack ;  then  with  mock 
seriousness :  "  derned  ef  I  ain't  glad  of  it !  She's 
made  me  fret  f er  twenty  years !  "  Further  con- 
versation was  interrupted  by  Miss  Ainsley. 

"  You  don't  dance,  Mr.  Dorkins?  " 

Hester  smiled.     Slack  replied: 


114  Hester   Blair 

"  O  yes,  not  them  ther  fancy  dances ;  but  ef 
yer  hev  a  regular  square  dance,  er  Chorus  Jig,  I 
don't  inin'  ef  I  try  it." 

"  The  Chorus  Jig ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Ainsley, 
"  what  a  pretty  name  for  a  dance." 

"  O  yes,"  answered  Slack,  "  and  it's  a  pretty 
dance  I  ken  tell  yer." 

"  Will  you  describe  how  they  dance  it,  Mr. 
Dorkins?  " 

The  question  was  asked  in  good  faith  and 
Slack  answered  with  equal  sincerity. 

"  Why  certainly,  I  don't  min'  showin'  yer.  It 
goes  like  this." 

Slack  stood  up  and  began  the  old  country 
dance,  calling  off  the  changes  in  a  loud  tone. 
Commencing  with  "  head  couple  down  the  cen- 
ter,"— with  a  light  foot,  his  head  in  the  air,  hum- 
ming the  tune  of  the  dance  meanwhile,  he  led  an 
imaginary  partner  down  the  center,  tripping  off 
the  steps  of  the  dance  over  the  carpet  half  way 
across  the  room  and  back  again.  The  second 
change  he  called ;  and  through  the  set  he  crossed 
and  recrossed,  balanced  and  swung  to  the  next, 
his  feet  barely  touching  the  floor.  He  turned 
and  pivoted  with  reckless  abandon;  and  ended 
with  a  flourish  of  feet,  arms  and  hands,  that 
would  wring  the  heart  of  a  country  prize  dancer 
with  envy. 

The  music  had  ceased  before  Slack  began 
dancing.  The  guests  were  grouped  at  the  door, 


The  Reception  115 

convulsed  with  laughter,  but  watching  the  move- 
ments of  the  agile  Slack. 

They  crowded  around  him,  they  applauded 
him,  they  thanked  him. 

"  But  you  must  teach  us  the  dance !  "  ex- 
claimed one  of  the  ladies. 

"  Nothin'd  give  me  greater  pleasure,"  an- 
swered Slack  with  a  courtesy. 

The  music  began  again.  Hester  and  Feath- 
erly  joined  the  dance ;  Fenton  and  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen who  was  not  dancing  lingered  behind  in 
earnest  conversation. 

"  Gad !  "  exclaimed  Fenton,  looking  round  the 
deserted  room  to  assure  himself  that  they  were 
alone,  "  she's  a  beautiful  woman.  This  business 
of  teaching  music  is  all  a  blind;  but  upon  my 
honor,  she  carries  it  off  with  a  high  hand !  She's 
as  chilly  as  an  iceberg,  and  as  unapproachable  as 
the  favorite  in  the  Sultan's  harem." 

"  Do  you  doubt — "  said  his  companion. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  doubt  nothing.  I  have 
learned  the  lesson  that  in  this  life,  if  you  wish  to 
be  comfortable,  never  doubt; — take  everything 
for  granted.  Enough  for  me  that  she's  ador- 
able, and  that  I'm  hopelessly  in  love  with  her; 
but  she  treats  me  with  maddening  indifference." 

"  But,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  would  it  be  wise 
to  give  Featherly  offence?  He'll  make  a  devil 
of  a  row." 

"  Featherly'll  not  trouble  anyone  much  longer. 


1 1 6  Hester    Blair 

He  has  a  heart  trouble  that  may  terminate 
fatally  at  any  moment.  I  know  it  from  his  family 
physician.  This  excitement,  for  him,  is  tempt- 
ing fate." 

"  Is  Miss  Blair  aware  of  this?  " 

"  No,  he  hides  it  from  her.  I  will  soon  have 
the  field  to  myself ;  but  I  am  impatient." 

Mrs.  Pendleton  entered  the  room  and  ap- 
proached Fenton.  She  tapped  him  lightly  on  the 
arm  with  her  fan. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  looking  sharply  at  him, 
"  tell  me  what  kind  of  a  conspiracy  you  are  con- 
cocting now?  " 

"  We  were  just  discussing  the  political  situa- 
tion," Fenton  answered.  "  You  see,  we  are  in 
the  race  for  honors." 

"  Bah !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  never  knew  you  to 
devote  much  time  to  politics  when  in  the  presence 
of  ladies.  Have  you  selected  the  winner?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  he  answered  with  a  laugh. 

"  As  I  once  heard  you  say  of  a  certain  race : — 
1  you  have  the  pole  and  will  be  in  at  the  finish ! '  " 

Fenton's  companion,  not  understanding  the 
drift  of  their  remarks,  joined  the  dancers.  Slack 
had  entered  the  room  and  seated  himself  near 
the  piano,  which  was  between  him  and  Fenton. 

"  Exactly,  my  dear  Laura,"  Fenton  replied  to 
her  last  remark,  "  you  honor  me  even  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  your  memory." 

"  Perhaps  not  in  the  exercise  of  my  judgment," 
she  replied,  "  for  in  this  race  you'll  lose." 


The  Reception  117 

He  laughed  scoffingly.  "  You  are  a  worthy 
champion,"  he  said,  "  but  wait — the  finish  is  not 

yet" 

"  Then  it  is  still  war?  " 

"  You  force  the  fighting,"  he  replied,  "  remem- 
ber I'm  no  novice." 

"  True,  you've  seen  service ; — you're  entitled 
to  be  termed  a  Regular." 

"  You  do  me  a  great  honor ;  but  I  do  not  de- 
preciate my  foe.  You  are " 

"  A  volunteer !  "  she  interrupted.  "  In  our 
country  the  standard  is  high.  I'll  endeavor  not 
to  lower  it." 

"  All  is  fair  in  war  and — love !  " 

"  In  this  case,  we  will  recognize  only  the 
former." 

"  And  you  will  not  consider  a  truce?  " 

"  Never !  until  you  are  completely  routed !  " 

"  So  be  it.  Will  you  permit  me?  "  He  offered 
her  his  arm  and  they  joined  the  dancers. 

The  perplexed  gaze  of  the  fisherman  followed 
them  to  the  door.  He  remained  silent  for  a  full 
minute  deep  in  thought.  Unconsciously  he  struck 
his  forehead  with  the  knuckles  of  his  hand,  then 
spoke  musingly: 

"  This  be  the  second  time  I've  heered  them  two 
a  talkin'  er  war  an'  races.  What's  it  all  about? 
That's  what  sticks  me !  The  dern  skunk  Fenton's 
up  ter  some  game,  an'  th'  widder's  a  tryin'  to 
balk  'im;  an'  ther's  a  race  er  some  kind  atween 
'em.  Thet's  as  plain  as  th'  wart  on  Captain  Ed- 


1 1 8  Hester    Blair 

wards's  nose.  But  what  is  it?  Las'  summer  th' 
were  w^arin'  uv  it,  an'  now  they're  at  it  agin." 

His  eyes  followed  the  dancers  for  a  moment. 
His  face  betrayed  that  he  could  arrive  at  no  satis- 
factory conclusion.  "  Well,  Slacky,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  yer'll  hev  ter  allow  thet  up  ter  th'  pres- 
ent time,  as  fer  as  Fenton  an'  th'  widder's  con- 
sarned,  yer  stumped.  Yep,  thet's  what  yer  be; 
but  when  it  comes  ter  bein'  in  at  th'  finish,  ef  it's 
anything  consarning  Hessie " 

He  paused.  He  had  struck  the  keynote  of  his 
conjectures.  He  did  not  care  to  admit  it  even  to 
himself,  but  from  the  first,  he  believed  that  Hes- 
ter was  in  some  way  identified  with  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton's  interest  in  the  subject  under  discussion. 
When  Slack  spoke  Hester's  name  an  ugly  light 
shone  in  his  eyes,  and  he  involuntarily  clinched 
his  hands.  Then  his  thoughts  turned  to  Mrs. 
Pendleton  and  he  smiled.  He  held  her  in  high 
regard.  His  eyes  twinkled,  and  an  amused  ex- 
pression played  around  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"  By  Gum !  Yer  up  agin  it  my  dear  Mr.  Fen- 
ton,  ef  yer  buck  up  again  th'  widder.  She's  an 
ole  war-horse,  an'  a  good  one  yet;  an'  ef  it's  a 
question  of  a  race  atween  yer,  why,  dern  me !  I'll 
bet  my  las'  dollar,  yes,  and  my  schooner  ter  boot, 
on  th'  widder ! "  and  he  followed  the  subject  of 
his  last  remark  with  a  tender  glance  as  she  glided 
by  the  door. 

The  music  ceased.  Miss  Ainsley  approached 
Slack. 


The  Reception  119 

"  We  have  arranged  for  a  cotillion  next,  Mr. 
Dorkins.  Will  you  dance?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  ef  yer  will  honor 
me?" 

"  With  pleasure,"  she  answered. 

She  laid  the  tips  of  her  fingers  on  Slack's  arm 
and  they  led  the  way  to  the  ball-room. 

The  music  commenced,  and,  with  a  courtly 
bow,  the  fisherman  began  the  dance.  The  guests 
had  waited  for  this  moment  expectantly.  They 
were  prepared  to  be  amused;  and  under  their 
well-bred  assumption  of  indifference,  they  studi- 
ously refrained  from  bestowing  upon  the  fisher- 
man more  notice  than  courtesy  demanded.  They 
would  not  bestow  upon  him  more  than  ordinary 
notice,  so  they  laboriously  and  clumsily  set  about 
the  task  of  not  watching  him;  while  the  eyes  of 
every  dancer  took  in  the  movements  of  the  seem- 
ingly unconscious  Slack.  But  they  overdid  it: 
and  besides,  they  measured  their  wits  with  one 
far  more  crafty  and  discerning  than  themselves. 
He  apparently  gave  his  undivided  attention  to 
his  partner  and  the  intricacies  of  the  figures  that 
he  was  dancing;  but  there  was  a  faint — a  very 
faint  suspicion  of  a  smile  hovering  around  the 
corners  of  his  mouth,  and  anyone  in  Norton  could 
have  told  that,  "  Slacky  was  havin'  some  fun 
with  'em."  But  they  didn't  know  it,  nor  was  it 
his  intention  that  they  should. 

He  danced  the  figures  with  a  sturdy  grace  and 
a  light  foot;  and  they  forgot  their  role  of  patro- 


1 20  Hester    Blair 

nizing  unconcern  and  watched  him  with  ill-con- 
cealed delight. 

In  studying  this  man  of  many  parts,  a  doubt 
often  obtruded  itself  as  to  his  genuineness;  and 
one  who  watched  him  closely,  was  almost  forced 
to  believe  that  his  rough  exterior,  and  homely 
ways,  were,  in  a  degree,  assumed.  He  was  a  man 
of  surprises:  and  those  who  had  known  him  the 
longest,  were  forced  to  admit  that  he  was  beyond 
fathoming.  He  was  content  to  have  himself 
judged  by  appearance.  Beyond  that — but  we'll 
know  him  better  as  we  proceed. 

They  finished  the  dance  and  entered  the  draw- 
ing room.  Hester  was  seated  on  a  divan  talking 
to  Mrs.  Pendleton.  A  servant  entered  with  a 
salver  on  which  was  a  card.  "  For  Miss  Blair," 
he  said. 

Hester  took  the  card  and  glanced  at  it.  Her 
face  became  livid,  but  she  manifested  no  other 
sign  of  emotion.  Featherly  approached. 

"  Will  you  dance  this  set,  Hester?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  thanks,"  she  calmly  replied.  "  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton, will  you  kindly  take  my  place?  " 

"  With  pleasure,  dear,"  Mrs.  Pendleton  replied, 
"  Featherly  and  I  are  old  partners.  Dear  me ! 
It's  so  many  years  since  we  began  dancing  to- 
gether, that  I  shudder  to  think  of  it.  Do  you 
know,  Hester,  that  at  one  time  I  really  believed 
Ealph  took  an  interest  in  me?  But " — with  a 
sad  smile — "  that  was  before  I  met  poor,  dear 


The  Reception  121 

Pendleton."  And  she  rattled  on  until  Featherly 
led  her  away. 

Hester  smiled  wearily  and  turned  to  the  serv- 
ant. 

"  Is  the  gentleman  waiting?  " 
"  Yes,  miss,  in  the  south  hall." 
"  Show  him  in  by  the  side  entrance." 
The    servant    withdrew.     Hester,    who    was 
clutching  the  card  in  her  trembling  fingers,  read 
the  name — John  Gary. 


CHAPTER  X 

"  MY    PROMISE !      JUST    HEAVEN,    POINT    ME    THE 
WAY !  " 

A  woman's  word.    How  frail  a  thing!     Yet  He 
Who  doth  record  each  act  and  deed  and  thought, 
Has  with  His  hand  on  golden  tablet  wrought 
These  words,  to  live  through  all  eternity: 
If  thou,  thy  promise  give,  thy  promise  keep; 
For  as  in  life  ye  sow,  so  shall  ye  reap. 
I  here  record  a  vow — a  woman's  word. 
'Tis  sacred  in  the  annals  of  the  Lord. 

HESTER  stood  beside  a  small  table  that  sup- 
ported a  bronze  figure,  resting  her  left 
hand  lightly  upon  it.  Her  features  were 
pale,  and  a  look  of  apprehension  shone  in  her 
eyes,  for  she  felt  that  Gary's  visit  boded  no  good. 
That  some  powerful  motive  prompted  his  un- 
timely visit,  she  had  no  doubt.  Did  it  concern 
herself,  or  worse — had  some  misfortune  befallen 
her  sister?  No,  she  argued,  it  must  be  something 
of  a  personal  nature.  Doubt  gave  place  to  fear. 
What  if  John  suspected  the  truth?  What  if  her 
marriage  were  already  known  at  Norton.  Her 
thoughts  then  reverted  to  the  man  she  was  wait- 
ing to  see.  She  had  perfect  confidence  in  his 
loyalty  and  discretion.  Time  had  proved  his 
worth;  and  she  felt  that  whatever  the  impulse 

122 


"My  Promise!  "  123 

that  had  prompted  his  unseemly  visit,  it  was 
founded  on  a  pure  and  disinterested  regard  for 
her  welfare. 

John  entered  the  side  door  and  stood  irreso- 
lute, waiting  for  her  to  speak.  There  was  some- 
thing in  his  bearing  that  was  foreign  to  him : — 
a  hesitancy  in  his  manner ;  a  faltering  of  purpose, 
that  set  ill  upon  him.  His  naturally  frank,  fear- 
less eyes,  after  a  glance  of  recognition,  sought 
the  floor.  His  whole  demeanor  proclaimed  that 
he  was  there  on  an  unwilling  and  unpleasant  mis- 
sion; and  the  expression  of  mouth  and  chin  af- 
firmed his  determination  to  fulfill  it. 

Hester  knew  him  well.  She  read  every  chang- 
ing expression  that  swept  over  his  face.  Fear 
almost  suffocated  her,  and  her  heart  beat  with 
dread  expectancy. 

"  John,"  she  said  falteringly,  "  what  has  hap- 
pened? Is  Ethel " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  divining  her  thoughts, 
"  she  is  well." 

"  Thank  God !  "  Hester  exclaimed.  She  ex- 
tended her  hand  to  him.  "  Forgive  my  selfish 
fears,  but  your  visit  at  this  late  hour  startled 
me.  I  feel  that  some  powerful  motive  must  have 
prompted  you  to  seek  me  here.  Don't  keep  me 
in  suspense.  What  is  it?  Are  you " 

"  It  is  not  of  myself  I  came  to  speak ;  it  is  of 
you,  Hester." 

"  Of  me?  " 

"  Yes,  of  you,"  he  answered.    There  was  a  sor- 


1 24  Hester  Blair 

rowing  inflection  in  his  voice  that  redoubled  her 
fears. 

"  Hester,  you  have  faith  in  me?  "  he  asked. 

"  Need  you  ask?  " 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  you  have.  It  is  not 
easy  to  say  what  I  came  here  to  tell  you,  but " 

"  Well  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  determined  effort 
to  be  calm. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  Norton.  My  stay  here 
is  limited  only  to  a  few  hours.  I  return  to-night, 
and  must  leave  on  the  midnight  train.  I  could 
not  go  until  I  had  seen  you — until  I  had  spoken 
to  you." 

Hester  remained  silent.  The  blood  surged  to 
her  neck  and  cheek,  and  receding,  left  her  face 
even  paler  than  before. 

"  Since  you  came  to  New  York,"  he  continued 
with  an  effort,  "  there  has  been  gossip  in  the  vil- 
lage. It  was  not  long  before  your  name  and  that 
of  Mr.  Featherly  were  coupled  unpleasantly." 

"Unpleasantly!"  she  repeated,  "but  how?" 

"  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  think  of  it,"  he  said 
with  rising  anger,  "  much  less  to  speak  of  it,  but 
they  say " 

"  They  say "  she  echoed. 

"  They  question  your  manner  of  living " 

"  My  manner  of  living " 

"  But  it  is  even  worse  than  that " 

"•Worse?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  but  I  cannot " 

"  But  you  must,"  she  interrupted,  "  it  is  my 


"My  Promise!  "  125 

right.  You  have  told  me  too  much  or  too  little. 
Speak,  John." 

The  pride  of  her  race  came  to  her  relief  and 
dominated  her.  She  stood  with  flashing  eyes,  her 
form  erect,  and  her  head  thrown  back.  With  the 
consciousness  of  her  own  purity,  she  could  at 
that  moment  have  faced  the  whole  world.  She 
did  not  stop  to  consider  that,  by  her  own  act,  she 
had  placed  herself  in  a  false  position: — a  posi- 
tion which  had  invited  the  very  charge  she  was 
now  forced  to  meet. 

"  Remember,  Hester,"  said  Gary,  "  never  in 
my  life  have  I  doubted  you  for  an  instant." 

"  Doubted  me !  doubted  me !  Why  should  you 
doubt  me? "  she  demanded,  "  by  what  right 
should  you  doubt  me?  "  There  was  a  ring  of 
passion  in  her  voice. 

"  Can  you  ask  that  of  me,  Hester?  "  he  said,  a 
shade  of  reproach  in  his  tone,  "  has  not  a  life- 
long love " 

"  Stop !  "  there  was  passion  in  her  voice,  "  you 
have  no  right  to  speak  to  me  of  love." 

"  I  have  the  right  of  a  friendship  which  began 
when  we  were  children,  the  right  of  a  devotion 
that  has  never  wavered ;  a  right  given  me  by  your 
father,  when,  on  his  death  bed,  with  his  hand 
in  mine,  he  entrusted  you  and  Ethel  to  my  care. 
I  have  the  right  of  a  man's  love  that  he  knows 
but  once: — a  love  that  he  has  offered  you,  and 
shall  continue  to  offer  you,  that  he  offers  you 
now " 


126  Hester  Blair 

"  How  do  you  dare !  "  she  said  angrily. 

"  Dare,  Hester,  dare?  That  word,  and  from 
you?  " 

"  O,  no,  no,  my  God !  John,  I  forgot  myself  for 
the  moment.  I  can  make  it  all  clear  to  you  with 
just  a  word.  No,  no,"  she  continued  in  a  con- 
fused manner,  "  I  quite  forgot — I " 

"  You  can  make  what  clear?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  nothing !  "  she  said  with  an  effort  to  re- 
gain her  composure,  "  I  am  unnerved.  The  un- 
expectedness of  your  coming ;  the  fear  that  Ethel 
was  ill;  the  horrible  news  from  the  village — all 
this  overcame  me!  You  will  forgive  me,  John? 
Ah!  but  need  I  ask?  Do  I  not  know  your  good 
heart,  as  I  do  the  dear  old  home?  But  you  have 
not  told  me  all.  You  are  keeping  something 
back !  You  have  the  right  of  our  friendship,  the 
right  of  my  trust  in  you  to  speak  plainly.  What 
is  it,  John?  " 

"  I  cannot !  "  he  faultered. 

"  You  must."  There  was  a  fierce  intensity  in 
her  tone  which  rang  through  the  room. 

"  It  is " 

"  Yes " 

"  It  is — that  you  do  not — Hester,  in  Heaven's 
name  do  not  force  me  to  say  it !  I " 

"  If  you  have  the  love  for  me  that  you  profess, 
prove  it !  Speak !  " 

A  struggle  was  going  on  within  him.  He  knew 
that  the  words  he  was  about  to  utter  would  strike 
her  to  the  heart.  He  felt  that  it  was  easier  to 


"  My  Promise ! "  1 27 

imprint  a  blow  upon  her  face,  than  to  say  that 
which  would  fill  her  with  shame  and  mortifica- 
tion. He  knew  her  high  sense  of  honor ;  her  love 
for  her  family  name;  the  zealous  care  with  which 
she  guarded  her  own  and  her  sister's  reputation ; 
and  his  courage  failed  as  he  looked  at  her  beauti- 
ful face. 

Her  eyes  sought  his  in  a  startled  gaze  of  in- 
quiry. 

"  It  is,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  "  that  you  do 
not  make  your  living  honestly — that — that — you 
are  the  mistress  of  Mr.  Featherly." 

Hester  uttered  a  piercing  scream  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands.  Her  body  swayed  as  a 
torrent  of  emotion  swept  over  her,  and  tearless 
sobs  shook  her  frame.  She  appeared  about  to 
fall,  and  John  stepped  quickly  to  her  side.  His 
movement  seemed  to  arrest  the  paroxysm  of  feel- 
ing and  she  uncovered  her  face,  on  which  was 
stamped  the  suffering  she  was  undergoing.  She 
made  a  determined  effort  to  control  herself  and 
spoke : 

"  The  shame !  The  humiliation !  You  do  not 
believe  it,  John?" 

"  Can  you  ask  me,  Hester?  "  he  asked  sadly. 
"  You  know  my  faith  in  you." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  thank  God  I  do."  A 
determined  light  shone  in  her  eyes.  "  John,"  she 
said  abruptly,  "  stay  here  until  I  call  Mr.  Feath- 
erly." 

They  were  standing  before  an  alcove  made  by 


128  Hester  Blair 

a  large  bow  window,  that  protruded  some  feet 
from  the  wall  of  the  building  and  looked  out  on 
an  open  area.  Hester  drew  one  of  the  silken 
draperies  and  motioned  John  to  a  seat. 

"  You  will  be  unobserved  here,"  she  said.  "  I 
will  return  in  a  few  moments." 

John  sat  in  the  seat  designated.  The  sound  of 
the  music  and  laughter  from  the  adjoining  room 
jarred  upon  him.  He  smiled  bitterly.  He  men- 
tally contrasted  the  difference  in  the  surround- 
ings and  the  atmosphere  of  luxury  which  per- 
vaded the  room,  with  the  refined  quiet  and 
homely  comfort  of  their  Norton  home.  His  at- 
tention was  arrested  by  some  one  entering.  He 
recognized  Fenton's  voice. 

"  I  am  getting  nervous !  "  Fenton  was  saying 
in  a  tone  of  irritation.  "  I  have  played  a  strong 
card,  and  I  don't  want  any  slip  to  spoil  the  game. 
To-day  I  sent  a  letter  to  Featherly's  father,  dis- 
closing the  son's  relations  writh  Hester.  He  is 
coming  here  to-night.  Mark  me!  I  know  the 
father; — he  is  the  soul  of  honor.  To-night  will 
end  this  affair.  The  old  man  will  make  a  scene; 
Hester  will  have  to  go;  and  I  shall  have  a  clear 
field." 

Mrs.  Pendleton  had  entered  quietly,  and,  after 
casting  a  hurried  glance  at  Fenton  and  his  com- 
panion, and  assuring  herself  that  she  was  unob- 
served, stepped  behind  a  Japanese  screen  that 
stood  at  the  right  of  the  door  leading  to  the  im- 
promptu ball-room. 


"  My  Promise  !  "  1 29 

"  That's  risky,"  answered  Fenton's  companion, 
"  think  you're  safe  in  the  matter?  " 

"  Yes,  I  bound  the  old  man  to  secrecy." 

"  And  what  do  you  propose  to  do?  " 

"Do?"  laughed  Fenton.  "The  rest  is  easy. 
Pursue  her  to  the  end,  until  I  bring  her  to  my 
way  of  thinking.  O,  it's  a  game  I'm  up  in. 
Hark!  Is  there  anyone  here?" 

John  had  sprung  to  his  feet.  He  dashed  the 
curtains  aside,  and  strode  into  the  center  of  the 
room.  His  eyes  blazed,  and  he  made  a  most 
magnificent  though  formidable  picture.  With 
clenched  fists  he  approached  Fenton. 

"  Cur !  "  he  cried,  "  you  will  settle  with  me 
first," 

"  The  country  lover ! "  Fenton  sneeringly  an- 
swered. 

John  sprang  toward  him,  but  before  he 
could  strike,  Mrs.  Pendleton  stood  between 
them. 

"  Stop !  We  will  have  no  scandal  here !  My 
dear  Fenton,  you  now  have  two  adversaries  to 
deal  with.  But  we  must  conduct  our  warfare 
elsewhere.  Mr.  Gary,"  she  said,  turning  to  John, 
"  I  beg  of  you  for  Hester's  sake  to  desist.  Hush ! 
not  a  word !  They  are  coming. 

John  withdrew  to  his  former  seat.  Featherly 
entered  the  room  alone.  The  others  remained 
behind  chatting  and  laughing. 

As  Featherly  came  through  the  door  he  reeled 
slightly  and,  when  well  within  the  room,  stag- 


130  Hester  Blair 

gered  and  seemed  about  to  fall,  but  steadied  him- 
self by  grasping  the  piano. 

"  Laura,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Pendleton,  "  where 
is  Hester?"  He  spoke  with  an  effort:  his  right 
hand  pressed  over  his  heart. 

"  She  is "  began  Mrs.  Pendleton. 

"  No  matter !  "  he  cried.  His  voice  told  the  suf- 
fering he  was  undergoing.  "  Laura,  I  can  trust 
you!  Go  to  her!  Feign  illness,  anything;  but 
keep  her  out  of  the  room  until  I  recover." 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  assistance  to  you,  old  man?  " 
Fenton  asked. 

"  No,"  Featherly  answered  with  an  effort.  "  A 
touch  of  the  old  trouble,  that's  all.  It'll  soon 
pass."  The  muscles  of  his  face  twitched  with 
pain.  "  Ah !  "  he  muttered,  "  it's  a  nuisance !  " 

A  servant  entered  and  announced  "  Mr.  Fea- 
therly." 

The  announcement  was  followed  by  the  en- 
trance of  an  elderly  man  of  about  sixty-five  years. 
He  saw  his  son  and  walked  quickly  to  him. 

"  Are  you  ill,  Ralph?  "  he  asked. 

"  Tut,  tut,  father ;  a  touch  of  the  old  trouble. 
It  will  soon  pass." 

"  Shall  I  send  for  Dr.  Raddy?  "  the  elder  man 
inquired  in  a  tone  of  concern. 

Featherly  made  a  determined  effort  to  control 
himself.  With  a  poor  attempt  at  a  smile,  and 
a  jaunty  air,  he  asked, 

"  Do  you  love  me  father?  " 

"  Yes,  my  son,  but " 


"My  Promise !"  131 

"Then  send  not  for  Dr.  Raddy.  'Tis  but  a 
flutter  of  the  heart,  and  a  little  flutter  at  that. 
I  must  confess,  governor,  that  wine's  the  father 
of  the  complaint.  'Twill  pass  in  a  moment."  He 
shuddered  convulsively,  then,  with  an  attempt 
at  grandiloquence,  continued :  "  The  doctor, 
good  soul,  would  add  physic,  and,  between  the 
two,  eh,  faith !  You'd  have  no  son.  'Tis  passing, 
— now  coming,  now  going,  ebbing  and  flowing, 
like  the  favors  of  love,  whose  home  it  is,  alas !  oft 
untidily  kept ! " 

His  body  swayed  from  side  to  side,  his  hand 
clutched  at  his  heart,  and  his  face  was  distorted 
with  pain. 

"  And  you  will  not  have  the  doctor,  Ralph?  " 

"  I  have  always  obeyed  you,  father?  " 

"  Yes,  my  son." 

"  And  for  one  breach  I  would  be  forgiven,  me- 
thinks?" 

"  Indeed  yes,  Ralph,  but  I  fear "  the  old 

man's  tone  was  husky.  His  son  replied, 

"  Fear  not.  Fear  is  the  harbinger  of  misfor- 
tune, courage  its  master."'  He  continued  in  an 
almost  inaudible  tone,  "  but  it's  a  stubborn  visi- 
tor, and  an  uncivil  one.  It  will  not  yield  with 
good  grace.  Ah !  "  he  staggered  and  nearly  fell. 
His  father  placed  his  arm  around  him  and  they 
leaned  against  the  piano. 

Featherly's  eyes  took  on  a  glassy  look.  His 
face  was  an  ashen  gray  color;  his  strength 
seemed  to  have  forsaken  him ;  and  his  hands  fell 


132  Hester  Blair 

lifeless  to  his  side.  With  an  effort,  and  with  a 
pause  between  each  word,  he  spoke: 

"  Hester,"  he  said  faintly,  "  father — I — have 
a — confession — to — make — before  —  too  —  late. 

Hester — is — my "  a  gurgling  cry  was  all  he 

was  able  to  utter.  He  fell  into  his  father's  arms 
— dead. 

A  moment  they  stood  thus.  The  stillness  that 
settled  over  the  room  was  oppressive; — the 
labored  breathing  of  the  old  man  being  the  only 
audible  sound.  Fenton  was  the  first  to  recover 
his  presence  of  mind.  He  stepped  forward 
lightly,  and,  lifting  the  dead  body,  laid  it  on  the 
divan.  He  placed  his  hand  over  the  young  man's 
heart,  and  turning  to  the  guests,  just  as  Hester 
and  Mrs.  Pendleton  appeared  in  the  doorway, 
said,  "  He  is  dead." 

The  old  man  leaned  against  the  piano  with 
bowed  head.  He  seemed  oblivious  of  his  sur- 
roundings, until  a  piercing  shriek  aroused  him. 
He  turned  and  confronted  Hester. 

A  look  of  horror  overspread  her  features.  She 
stood  on  the  threshold  of  the  door  as  if  turned 
to  stone.  In  a  blank  stare  her  eyes  rested  on  the 
face  of  her  dead  husband. 

When  Mr.  Featherly  heard  Hester  cry  out,  he 
had  taken  a  step  backward,  and  stood  by  the 
body  of  his  son.  He  looked  at  her,  but  she  did 
not  see  him.  She  had  heard  Fenton's  declaration 
that  her  husband  was  dead;  saw  his  white,  dis- 
torted, upturned  face,  and  the  truth  forced  itself 


"My  Promise!  "  133 

upon  her.  A  life  agony  was  condensed  in  that 
one  moment.  The  cry  she  uttered  rang  through 
the  house,  and  chilled  the  blood  of  her  listen- 
ers. 

As  if  in  mockery  of  her  grief,  the  band  struck 
up  a  lively  waltz,  until  it  was  stilled  by  one  of 
the  guests. 

"  Dead !  "  Hester  whispered  the  word  as  she 
stepped  into  the  room.  Her  lips  did  not  move 
and  the  word  came  in  a  hollow  sound.  "  Dead !  " 
she  continued,  "  no,  no,  no !  " 

Her  eyes  still  fixed  on  the  white  face,  she 
walked,  or  glided  into  the  middle  of  the  room, 
as  if  to  fall  on  the  body  of  her  husband. 

The  old  man  stepped  in  front  of  her,  and  Hes- 
ter raised  her  eyes  slowly  to  his  face. 

"  Stop !  "  he  said,  raising  his  hand  and  point- 
ing to  the  door,  "in  the  presence  of  my  dead 
son " 

The  words  conveyed  but  little  meaning  to  her. 

"  Dead !  "  she  whispered  in  an  unnatural  voice. 
"  Did  you  say  he  was  dead?  And  you  would  pre- 
vent me — me " 

"  Go,  leave  me  alone  with  my  grief."  He 
raised  his  hand  and  again  pointed  to  the  door, 
"  you  have  no  further  right  here.  Go !  " 

A  wild,  mirthless  laugh,  tinged  with  bitterness 
and  mocking  derision,  was  her  answer.  It  was 
unnatural  mirth;  it  meant  nothing,  nor  did  it 
sound  human;  and  she  was  unconscious  of  any 
effort  that  produced  it. 


134  Hester  Blair 

• 

The  words  at  last  seemed  to  force  themselves 
on  her  understanding. 

"  I,"  she  said,  touching  her  breast  with  the  in- 
dex finger  of  her  right  hand,  "  no  further — right 
— here?  By  the  dead  body  of  my " 

Her  face  assumed  the  same  look  that  it  wore 
when  she  had  heard  Fenton  proclaim  her  hus- 
band dead.  She  spoke  again.  "  I — no — further 
— right — here?  My  God !  " — there  was  a  fierce 
intensity.  "  I  will  see  him !  "  She  was  about  to 
advance  wrhen  Mr.  Featherly  held  out  his  hand  to 
restrain  her. 

"  Go,"  he  said  sadly,  "  I  beseech  you." 

"  No !  "  her  passionless  tone  rang  from  room 
to  room.  "  I  have  a  right  here.  No,  I  say  again 
— no !  I  remain !  "  She  raised  her  hand  slowly 
and  pointed  above.  Her  words  came  with  painful 
distinctness  as  she  continued :  "  I — am — his — " 

She  paused  as  if  struck  speechless.  She  stood 
thus  with  her  hand  in  the  air  for  a  full  minute; 
then  in  a  voice  that  had  lost  every  vestige  of 
naturalness — that  was  half  a  whisper,  half  a 
wail  of  agony,  she  faltered :  "  My  promise.  Just 
Heaven,  point  me  the  way !  " 

Her  eyes  still  riveted  on  her  husband's  body, 
she  turned  slowly  and  dragged  herself  toward 
the  door.  She  seemed  unconscious  of  what  she 
wras  doing.  The  only  purpose  that  fixed  itself  in 
her  mind,  was  that  the  white,  upturned  face 
should  be  the  last  object  that  her  eyes  would 
rest  upon.  She  realized  that  she  must  go;  that 


"My  Promise!"  135 

she  was  driven  out,  as  though  she  were  something 
unclean ;  and  by  the  father  of  the  man  she  loved. 
In  life  he  had  been  hers;  in  death  he  was  lost 
to  her — doubly  so.  Hers  was  a  grief  that 
dammed  up  the  fountain  head  of  tears,  and  none 
came  to  relieve  the  strain.  She  was  alone  in 
every  sense  and  meaning  of  the  word. 

Yet  no.  Every  syllable  she  had  uttered,  every 
look,  every  gesture  of  pain,  of  agony,  of  humilia- 
tion, has  struck,  like  a  knife  thrust,  into  the 
heart  of  John  Cary.  He  stood  apart,  receiving 
each  successive  blow,  his  heart  wrung  with  the 
knowledge  that  he  could  not,  by  word  or  act,  save 
or  assist  her.  He  realized  Hester's  great  love 
for  the  man  who  lay  dead  before  them;  but  no 
shadow  of  resentment  crossed  his  mind.  His 
heart  was  filled  with  but  one  emotion — pity  for 
the  woman  he  loved.  A  feeling  of  utter  help- 
lessness took  possession  of  him  as  he  saw  the 
greatness  of  her  devotion,  and  the  depth  of  her 
sorrow.  Yet  he  could  do  nothing  but  suffer  with 
her. 

As  Hester  neared  the  door,  John  awoke  to  the 
heartlessness  of  the  father,  and  a  feeling  of  anger 
sent  the  blood  flying  to  his  face. 

He  walked  quickly  toward  her,  then  turned 
and  looked  with  blazing  eyes  at  Mr.  Featherly, 
who  was  bending  over  the  body  of  his  son.  John 
did  not  speak  but  turned  again  toward  Hester. 
Her  hands  were  thrown  into  the  air,  and  she  fell 
over  the  threshold  in  a  swoon. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    DAY    FOLLOWING   FEATHERLY^S   DEATH 

The  wind  is  sighing,  for  hope  is  dying; 

The  Heavens   are   threatening,   dark  and  drear. 
'Mid  swirl  and  scurry,  the  snowflakes  hurry, 
With  ghostly  chatter  and  noisome  jeer. 
And  night,  descending,  its  mantle  is  lending 

Of  shuddering  heartache  and  fear. 

THE  morning  following  the  death  of  Ralph 
Featherly,  Hester  was  alone  in  her  apart- 
ments. The  servant  had  gone  out  on  some 
matter  connected  with  her  duties;  and  the  quiet 
within  was  broken  only  by  the  ticking  of  the 
clock  on  the  mantel.  The  day  was  dark  and 
gloomy;  a  light  snow  had  fallen  during  the 
night,  and  the  cold  intensified  as  the  day  grew 
old.  A  blustering  wind  sent  the  light  crystals, 
that  were  half  snow  and  half  sleet,  scurrying 
along  the  pavements,  and  into  the  faces  of  the 
few  who  were  on  the  street.  The  wind  whistled 
ominously,  and  the  threatening  clouds  chased 
each  other  across  a  leaden  sky.  Intermittently, 
black  clouds  rolled  before  the  sun,  the  wind  in- 
creased, and  the  fine  snow  picked  up  from  one 
side  of  the  street  by  the  erratic  wind,  would  be 
deposited  with  a  prolonged,  whistling  sigh  under 
the  cold  protection  of  the  opposite  curbstone. 
It  was  a  day  for  tears,  for  heartaches,  for  evil 

136 


Day  Following  Featherly's  Death     137 

forebodings ;  when  the  sunshine  leaves  the  world 
to  its  own  melancholy  bent. 

Hester  stood  before  the  window  and  looked 
out  upon  the  street.  Her  forehead  was  pressed 
against  the  glass,  and  she  stared  fixedly  before 
her.  She  saw  nothing.  She  was  unconscious  of 
the  cold  without;  and  she  felt  only  the  terrible 
weight  of  despair  that  lay  upon  her  heart,  crush- 
ing out  hope,  and  leaving  only  a  feeling  of  utter 
loneliness.  Her  mind  traversed  in  detail  her  life 
of  the  past  few  months.  She  lived  again  the  long 
summer  days  at  Norton;  she  went  through  her 
marriage  ceremony;  she  felt  the  mysterious 
gloom  of  the  darkened  church ;  her  husband's  de- 
parture for  New  York,  and  the  days  of  anxious 
waiting  that  followed.  She  reviewed  the  past 
few  months  of  her  happy  married  life,  marred 
only  by  the  fear  of  discovery.  Then,  with  a  shud- 
der, she  lived  again  through  the  last  night.  The 
music  of  the  dance  rang  in  her  ears;  she  heard 
Fenton's  voice  as  he  pronounced  her  husband 
dead ;  she  saw  his  white  upturned  face  as  he  lay 
on  the  divan.  The  pitiless  tones  of  the  elder 
Featherly  haunted  her  memory  as  he  bade  her 
go — go — without  so  much  as  a  last  look  at  her 
dead  husband, — out  into  the  world,  with  the 
stamp  of  dishonor  on  her  name.  A  soft  moan  es- 
caped her,  and  she  shuddered  convulsively.  She 
did  not  see  her  servant,  who  had  entered  noise- 
lessly; and  her  name  was  spoken  twice  before 
she  heeded  it. 


138  Hester  Blair 

"  Did  Miss  Blair  wish  anything?  " 

"  No,"  came  the  reply  in  an  almost  inaudible 
voice. 

"  Would  she  not  like  a  cup  of  tea?  " 

"  No,  thanks,  nothing,"  came  the  response  in 
the  same  hopeless  tone. 

The  maid  withdrew,  and  Hester's  eyes  again 
rested  on  the  frowning  walls  opposite  her  win- 
dow. 

The  hours  went  by,  and  the  shades  of  evening 
settled  over  the  city.  Once  or  twice  she  turned, 
— her  hands  clasped  tightly  together  until  the  fin- 
ger nails  were  pressed  deep  into  the  flesh, — and 
walked  the  length  of  the  room,  only  to  return 
to  her  former  position  before  the  window. 

A  newsboy  passed  the  house  crying  the  latest 
news;  closed  carriages  drove  by  at  a  rapid  pace; 
and  the  lights  flickered  from  the  windows  oppo- 
site, intensifying  the  gloom  of  the  night: — she 
saw  or  heard  nothing.  Her  maid  again  entered 
with  a  cup  of  tea.  Hester  drank  it  at  the  maid's 
request;  then  resumed  her  place  at  the  win- 
dow. The  cold  glass  had  a  soothing  effect  upon 
her,  for  it  eased  the  throbbing  of  her  temples; 
and  the  happenings  of  the  past  night  arranged 
themselves  more  clearly  in  her  mind. 

At  last  she  was  conscious  of  the  silver  tones  of 
the  clock  on  the  mantel  as  it  struck  the  hour, — 
ten,  eleven,  twelve.  She  pressed  her  hand  to  her 
head.  "  Midnight,"  She  spoke  softly ;  her  voice 


Day  Following  Featherly's  Death     139 

had  a  hollow  ring.  She  walked  to  the  center 
of  the  room  and  stood  motionless. 

"  He  is  there,  alone,  not  a  block  away,"  she 
murmured.  A  sudden  resolve  seemed  to  take 
possession  of  her. 

"  Why  couldn't  I?  "  she  whispered,  "  only  one 
or  two  watchers  will  be  with  the  body."  She 
paused.  Her  eyes  glowed  with  the  fierceness  of 
a  sudden  resolve. 

"  His  latch-key !  "  She  almost  shrieked  the 
words. 

With  nervous,  impetuous  step,  she  stood  be- 
side the  mantel.  Knowing  exactly  where  to  find 
what  she  sought,  she  grasped  the  key  in  her  hand, 
clutching  it  as  though  she  expected  to  fight  for 
its  possession.  It  was  the  latch-key  to  the  side 
entrance  of  her  husband's  home.  Featherly  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  leaving  it  on  the  mantel.  He 
wished  to  enter  his  house  without  inviting  the 
comment  of  the  servants ;  and  had  taken  the  pre- 
caution to  always  leave  this  extra  key  in  Hester's 
apartments. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  see  him?"  she  exclaimed 
in  a  suppressed  whisper.  "  He  is  mine — mine. 
I  may  not  be  discovered.  If  I  am!  Well,  they 
may  force  me  to  disclose — no,  no,"  she  moaned, 
"not  that,  not  that!" 

She  threw  a  dark  cloak  over  her  shoulders  and 
stood  irresolute  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  She 
was  determined  to  see  the  body  of  her  husband ; 


140  Hester  Blair 

yet  she  hesitated.  Fear  seemed  to  take  posses- 
sion of  her.  She  trembled;  then,  as  the  clock 
chimed  the  quarter  hour,  she  turned  to  the  door. 
Like  a  shadow  she  crept  through  the  hall  and 
out  to  the  street.  The  keen  wind  revived  her; 
and  with  a  firm  step  she  hurried  on.  A  police- 
man paused  and  looked  sharply  at  her.  She 
turned  her  head  that  he  might  not  see  her  face, 
and,  wrapping  her  cloak  more  closely  about  her, 
kept  on  her  way. 

When  she  neared  the  door  of  her  husband's 
home,  fear  again  almost  overcame  her.  What 
if  she  were  recognized  before  she  could  gain  an 
entrance?  What  if  there  were  others  than  serv- 
ants in  the  room  where  her  husband's  body  lay? 
She  trembled  as  she  mounted  the  stoop;  and  her 
heart  beat  with  the  dread  that  took  possession 
of  her,  until  she  felt  that  she  should  suffocate. 

With  trembling  fingers  she  inserted  the  key 
in  the  lock.  The  sound  filled  her  with  terror. 
The  key  turned  easily,  the  heavy  door  swung 
open,  and  she  passed  into  the  inner  hall  in  a 
turmoil  of  fear.  A  dim  light  was  burning. 
Silently  she  crept  to  the  drawing-room,  but 
heavy  draperies  covered  the  entrance.  As  she 
cautiously  peered  into  the  room  she  could  see  the 
outline  of  the  shroud  that  enveloped  the  body  of 
her  husband ;  beside  the  bier  sat  the  butler.  Her 
heart  beat  tumultuously,  and  fear  gave  place  to 
joyous  satisfaction.  No  one  else  was  to  be  seen, 
yet  she  could  hear  suppressed  tones  coming  from 


"  The  Butler  recognized  her  at  a  glance." 


Day  Following  Featherly's  Death     141 

the  adjoining  dining-room.  She  knew  the  butler 
well,  and  her  courage  returned.  If  he  did  not  cry 
out  and  give  the  alarm  when  she  entered,  she  was 
safe. 

With  nervous  dread  she  parted  the  curtains 
and  stepped  into  the  room.  So  deft  were  her 
movements,  so  silently  did  she  effect  her  en- 
trance, that  it  was  some  moments  after  she  had 
entered  the  drawing-room  before  the  butler  was 
aware  of  her  presence.  She  watched  him  closely, 
and,  as  he  turned  his  face  toward  her,  she  lifted 
her  hand  and  placed  a  warning  finger  on  her 
lips  to  command  silence. 

The  butler,  recognizing  her  at  a  glance  and 
observing  the  cautionary  signal,  remained  silent. 

Hester  glided  across  the  room,  and,  leaning 
over  the  body  of  her  husband,  cast  a  hurried 
glance  in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  of 
voices  came. 

She  kissed  his  eyes,  his  forehead,  again  and 
again.  She  felt  the  cold  touch  of  his  lifeless  lips 
on  her  own,  and  tears,  the  first  that  had  come 
to  relieve  the  awful  strain,  crept  down  her 
cheeks.  Long  and  intently  she  gazed  on  the  face 
that,  even  in  death,  wore  its  habitual  expression 
of  good  nature.  She  was  aroused  by  a  gentle 
touch  on  her  arm,  and,  turning,  saw  the  butler 
pointing  in  the  direction  of  the  door.  She  whis- 
pered: "  James,  I  can  trust  you?  "  A  nod  was 
the  reply;  then  hurriedly  kissing  her  husband's 
lips,  she  glided  from  the  room. 


142  Hester  Blair 

The  excitement  of  the  last  few  moments  had 
given  her  strength ;  but  as  the  door  closed  behind 
her,  and  she  descended  the  stoop  to  the  sidewalk, 
she  felt  that  she  should  sink  to  the  ground.  The 
wind  had  increased,  and  drove  the  sleet  and  snow 
into  her  face.  A  sudden  gust  would  arrest  her 
progress  for  a  moment;  then  she  would  again 
blindly  stagger  on.  She  reached  the  door  of  her 
home.  She  held  the  pass-key  in  her  hand.  Weak- 
ness overcame  her  for  an  instant,  and  she  leaned 
against  the  outer  door.  A  full  sense  of  weari- 
ness and  of  loneliness  came  over  her,  and  she 
dreaded  to  enter  the  house  and  again  face  the 
solitary  stillness  within. 

She  was  not  alone; — neither  was  she  friend- 
less. Had  Hester  been  observant  she  might  have 
seen  a  closely  muffled  figure  dogging  her  foot- 
steps. From  the  moment  she  had  left  her  own 
home,  until  she  had  entered  Featherly's,  Slack 
had  followed  at  a  safe  distance,  that  he  might  not 
be  noticed.  After  she  had  entered  Featherly's, 
he  had  waited  in  the  shadow  of  the  opposite  house 
until  Hester  had  reappeared.  He  had  quietly  fol- 
lowed her,  and,  observing  her  weakness  as  she 
leaned  against  the  door,  he  had  cautiously  ad- 
vanced to  render  her  assistance  should  she  need 
it.  Many  times  during  the  day  he  had  passed 
and  repassed  the  house,  seeing  always  her  grief- 
stricken  face  at  the  window ;  never  going  farther 
than  the  corner  of  the  street.  It  wrung  his  heart 
to  look  at  her,  yet  he  felt,  and  wisely,  that  the 


Day  Following  Featherly's  Death     143 

best  service  he  could  render,  was  to  leave  her 
alone  with  her  sorrow. 

After  fruitless  efforts  Hester  opened  the  door 
and  entered  the  house.  She  loosened  her  cloak 
and  it  fell  from  her  shoulders  to  the  floor.  Her 
strength  forsook  her,  and,  with  a  moan,  she  sank 
upon  a  couch  where  she  lay  till  morning. 

Before  the  house  Slack  kept  up  his  vigil 
throughout  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SLACK'S  RETURN  TO  NORTON 

A  Lie  with  Truth  set  out  one  day, 
To  journey  along  the  same  highway: 
As  on  they  went,  each  passer-by 
A  helping  hand  lent  to  the  Lie. 
Quoth  Truth:     "Eh  faith!    how  can  it  be 
They  tender  not  their  help  to  me?" 
With  scornful  mien  came  quick  reply — 
"  Because,  my  friend,  they  love  a  Lie." 

A  WEEK  after  the  death  of  Peatherly,  the 
north  bound  train  stopped  at  the  station 
of  Norton.  Slack  alighted  and  looked 
sharply  about  him.  It  was  early  evening,  and 
while  at  that  season  of  the  year,  he  hardly  ex- 
pected it,  he  hoped  that  the  public  carriage  would 
be  in  waiting.  He  would  have  preferred  to  walk 
to  the  Blair  farm,  but  he  wished  to  give  Jed  Dud- 
ley, the  driver  of  the  only  public  conveyance  to 
the  village,  certain  information.  This,  the  wily 
Slack  knew  full  well,  would  be  distributed 
through  the  village  within  the  hour.  Slack,  dur- 
ing hi£  journey  from  New  York,  had  mapped 
out  the  course  he  would  pursue ;  and,  as  he  step- 
ped from  the  platform,  it  was  with  satisfaction 
that  he  saw  the  loquacious  Jed  waiting  for  pas- 

144 


Slack's  Return  to  Norton          145 

sengers.  Slack  did  not  appear  to  see  him,  how- 
ever, and  started  in  the  direction  of  the  village. 

"  Hello,  there,  Slacky,"  bellowed  Jed  after  the 
retreating  fisherman,  "  Be  thet  you?  Want  a 
ride?  Won't  cost  yer  a  dern  cent." 

"  Why,  how  do !  "  answered  Slack  in  a  sur- 
prised tone,  "  didn't  spect  ter  see  yer  here.  Yes," 
he  drawled,  "  don't  mind  if  I  do  ride." 

Slack  shook  the  expectant  Jed  warmly  by  the 
hand  and  took  a  seat  beside  him.  There  were  no 
other  passengers,  and  Jed  gloatingly  settled  him- 
self to  hear  the  news.  This  was  exactly  what 
Slack  most  desired.  He  knew  that  before  he  had 
finished  his  supper — and  Slack  was  very  hungry 
— that  whatever  information  he  vouchsafed  to 
Jed,  would  be  recounted  with  many  little  em- 
bellishments and  exaggerations  to  everyone  in 
the  village  who  would  listen;  and  this  the  dear 
soul  would  do,  if  gossip  was  to  be  heard.  The 
more  he  imposed  secrecy  on  the  talkative  driver, 
the  more  certain  was  Slack  that  the  very  im- 
pression which  he  wished  to  spread  regarding 
Hester,  would  be  sent  broadcast  by  the  gossipy 
Jed.  It  was  one  of  the  latter's  peculiarities  that 
he  never  wasted  time  in  culling  news;  and,  as  it 
was  but  a  short  distance  to  the  Blair  homestead, 
he  came  to  the  point  at  once. 

"  How  be  things  in  New  York?  "  he  asked. 

"  Famous !  "  answered  Slack  with  enthusiasm. 
"  O' course,  Mr.  Featherly  a  dyin'  knocked  me 
out  er  a  job." 


146  Hester  Blair 

"  Be  he  dead?  "  inquired  Jed. 

"  Yes,  died  a  week  ago,"  Slack  answered. 

"  Gum,  thet  be  sudden !  How  be  Hessie  gettin' 
'long?  " 

"  Couldn't  be  a  doin'  better,"  Slack  answered, 
"  moren'  she  ken  attend  ter." 

"  Is  thet  so?  " 

"  Thet's  wThat  it  be.  Playin'  all  th'  time,  con- 
certs, 'n  scholars  n'; " 

"  Gosh !  I  wouldn't  er  believed  it !  "  broke  in 
Jed. 

"  Well  yer  kin,"  drawled  Slack,  "  I  tell  her  she 
be  a  killin'  of  herself  workin'!  Now  they've  of- 
fered her  a  chance  to  play  in  one  er  them  swell 
churches." 

"  I  swan !  "  exclaimed  Jed. 

There  was  a  slight  shade  of  disappointment 
in  the  driver's  tone  that  did  not  escape  the  ob- 
servant Slack.  This  report  of  Hester's  prosperity 
was  contrary  to  the  accepted  verdict  of  the  vil- 
lagers. Resentment  filled  Slack's  heart;  and  it 
would  have  given  him  keen  pleasure  to  have 
kicked  his  companion  from  the  seat  to  the 
ground.  With  an  added,  soft  inflection  in  his 
voice,  that  invited  closer  confidence,  Slack  re- 
sumed: 

"  Since  the  fust  day  she  got  ter  New  York, 
they  bin  a  chasin'  of  her  ter  play.  She's  got  a  fine 
place  ter  live  in  I  kin  tell  yer;  an'  one  o'  them 
three-cornered  pianeys.  It's  bigger  'n  this  yer 


Slack's  Return  to  Norton          147 

hitch  er  yourn,  bosses  an'  all;  only  the  legs  be 
sounder  'n  them  ther'  critters  yer  be  a  drivin'." 

Slack  could  not  resist  this  little  fling  at  Jed's 
spavined  pair.  In  a  conciliatory  tone  he  con- 
tinued :  "  I  don't  believe  Hessie'll  keer  ter  come 
back  here.  I  wouldn't  say  nothin'  'bout  it,  Jed ; 
cause  Hessie  mighten'  like  ter  hev  anyone  know 
what  she  be  a  doin'.  O'course,  I  don't  rain'  a 
tellin'  you.  I  know  I  kin  trust  yer." 

"  Wcourse  yer  kin,"  rejoined  Jed  with 
warmth.  O! 'course  yer  kin !  " 

They  drove  up  to  the  stoop  of  the  Blair  farm- 
house and  Slack  alighted. 

"  Comin'  down  ter  th'  store  arter  supper, 
Slacky?  "  inquired  Jed. 

"  Yes,  guess  I  will,"  replied  Slack  as  he  opened 
the  door. 

As  Jed  was  about  to  drive  away,  Slack  called 
after  him,  "  Don't  ferget !  Mum's  the  word !  " 

"  Don'  yer  be  afeered  Slacky — yer  know  me." 

"  Yes,  dern  yer,"  Slack  uttered  as  he  closed  the 
door,  "  I  do  know  yer,  an'  yer'll  save  me  th? 
trouble  er  lyin'  fifty  times." 

Millie  was  expecting  Slack  on  the  night  train ; 
but  she  had  not  heard  the  team  drive  up  to  the 
house.  As  Slack  entered  the  room — he  had  come 
in  by  the  side  door — she  was  arranging  the  sup- 
per table.  She  held  a  cup  in  her  hand,  which,  in 
her  excitement  at  seeing  Slack,  she  dropped,  and 
the  fragments  spread  themselves  about  on  the 


148  Hester  Blair 

clean  floor.  She  then  did  the  most  womanly,  if 
not  the  most  sensible  thing  under  the  circum- 
stances, she  sat  on  a  chair  and  cried. 

"  There,  Slack  Dorkins,"  she  sobbed,  "  yerVe 
made  me  break  my  best  china  teacup,  one  as 
Hester  brought  from  Gum'ny.  I  knowed  as  how 
yer  couldn't  come  home  'thout  somethin'  happen- 
in'."  Then  with  a  half  stifled  little  sob  of  joy  at 
seeing  the  fisherman  at  home  again,  she  con- 
tinued: "Be  yer  hungry,  Slacky?"  She  was 
betraying  feeling  and  interest  verging  on  ten- 
derness. This  would  not  do.  Still,  he  must  be 
fed.  Without  waiting  for  a  reply  she  hurried 
on  excitedly :  "  Ef  I'd  a  known  sooner  thet  yer 
wer'  a  comin'  home,  I'd  er  hed  somethin'  outer 
common.  The  roosters  er  all  sold  off,  an'  I 
killed  one  er  th'  pullets.  I  jest  hated  ter,  cause 
it  was  'bout  ready  to  lay.  Sit  right  up,  Slacky, 
I've  some  hot  biscuit  an'  a  cranberry  pie,  I  know 
yer  ain't  hed  eny  cranberry  pie  sense  yer  bin 
in  New  York." 

Millie  approached  the  table,  and  Slack  took 
her  work-begrimed  hand  in  his  own.  He  kissed 
her  lightly  on  the  cheek.  A  maidenly  blush  over- 
spread her  face,  then  assuming  her  most  severe 
expression  of  disapproval,  she  blurted  out : 

"  Ther',  Slacky,  don't  be  foolish !  "  But  she 
tingled  with  joy  from  her  head  to  her  feet;  and 
the  touch  of  the  fisherman's  lips  on  her  cheek 
sent  the  blood  surging  through  her  veins.  "  Be 


Slack's  Return  to  Norton          149 

yer  glad  ter  see  me?  "  inquired  Slack  as  he  seated 
himself  at  the  table. 

"  Yes,  o'course  I'm  glad  ter  see  yer ;  but  I 
never  spected  yer'd  get  back  'thout  gittin'  in  ter 
some  kind  er  trouble.  Try  some  er  th'  chicken 
pie,  Slacky;  but  I  ain't  sure  th'  crust  is  quite 
done,  though  th'  fire  was  hot  enough,  goodness 
knows !  " 

Slack  needed  no  urging.  For  the  past  few 
days  he  had  wrestled,  unsuccessfully,  with  the 
railroad  sandwich;  and  it  needed  only  the  sight 
of  the  well-supplied  and  scrupulously  neat  table, 
to  awaken  a  healthy  appetite.  Millie  seated  her- 
self opposite  the  fisherman,  and,  while  her  eyes 
rested  with  loving  concern  on  the  bulky  form 
before  her, — taking  care,  however,  that  she 
should  not  be  surprised  into  a  betrayal  of  her 
feelings — she  settled  herself  comfortably  to  hear 
the  news. 

"  Now,  Slacky,  tell  me  about  Hessie."  In  her 
usual  impetuous  manner  she  did  not  wait  for 
a  reply — "  What  a  pity  that  Mr.  Featherly  died. 
He  wer5  th'  neatest  man  in  his  room  I  ever  seed ! 
Not  a  speck  o'  dust;  an'  his  clothes  always  hung 
up!  Why,  it  wer'  nothin'  'tall  ter  take  keer  of 
his  room.  What  a  pity  he  died !  " 

Slack  chuckled  quietly.  No  allusion  as  yet 
to  his  hair.  He  cast  a  furtive  glance  at  the  mir- 
ror and  shuddered.  However,  a  few  minutes' 
respite  was  something.  He'd  enjoy  it. 


150 


Hester  Blair 


"  Well,"  he  began- 


He  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  at  the  door, 
which  opened  almost  immediately  and  John  Gary 
entered. 

Slack  held  out  his  hand,  which  Gary  grasped. 

"  Sit  down  an'  hev  some  supper,  John,"  Millie 
urged. 

"  Only  a  cup  of  tea,"  John  replied,  as  he  seated 
himself  at  the  table,  "  had  supper  an  hour  ago." 

John  turned  to  the  fisherman.  "  When  did  you 
arrive?  "  he  asked. 

"  On  the  night  train,"  Slack  replied. 

"  An'  he  hasn't  told  me  a  word  'bout  Hessie," 
Millie  protested. 

"How  could  I?"  demanded  Slack,  "when 
yer've  been  a  stuffin'  me  with  this  chicken  pie, 
th'  whole  time!  Not  but  that  I  wer*  willin' 
'nough;  but  I  couldn't  talk  an'  eat  too.  How- 
som'ever,"  he  continued  looking  John  in  the  eyes, 
"  when  I  left  New  York,  Hessie  wer'  fust  rate." 

A  glance  passed  between  the  two  men.  They 
understood  each  other. 

"  O,  how  I'd  like  ter  see  dear  Hessie !  "  Millie 
said  plaintively.  "  John,  try  one  o'  the  muffins. 
I  made  'em  from  a  new  receipt  Sally  Hopkins  gin 
me.  I  d'know  how  they've  turned  out.  I  always 
found  it  safest  ter  f oiler  yer  own  receipt."  She 
turned  to  Slack.  "  How  do  Hessie  look?  " 

"  O,"  replied  the  unblushing  Slack,  "  bout's 
common.  Don't  yer  think  so,  John?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  John  in  an  even  tone. 


Slack's  Return  to  Norton          151 

"  Dear,  dear  Hessie,"  there  were  tears  in  Mil- 
lie's voice.  She  observed  that  John  wasn't  eat- 
ing. 

"  John,  do  try  a  small  piece  o'  thet  cranberry 
pie." 

John  protested;  Millie  urged;  and  Slack, 
knowing  that  his  escape  from  nightmare,  and  per- 
haps apoplexy,  was  due  to  John's  timely  arrival, 
grinned,  and  watched  the  combat  between  the 
two. 

Millie  won  the  day;  and  John,  with  the  best 
grace  at  his  command,  ate  the  cranberry  pie.  Not 
content  with  his  too  ready  surrender,  he  smil- 
ingly assured  Millie  that  he  was  really  hungry 
for  it  after  all. 

"  How  be  Hessie  a  doin'  with  her  music?  "  de- 
manded Millie. 

Slack  launched  forth  with  a  glowing  account 
of  Hester's  success,  recounted  many  incidents  of 
her  musical  career,  and  finished  with  an  opinion 
expressed  with  convincing  candor,  "  that  he  was 
afeered  thet  she  would  overwork;  still,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  she  wer'  a  lookin'  well  an'  never 
seemed  ter  min'  th'  work  anyhow." 

John  listened  with  well  concealed  amazement 
to  the  voluble  fisherman.  His  heart  beat  with 
gratitude,  for  he  realized  the  fixed  determination 
of  this  guardian  of  Hester's  fair  name.  When 
Slack  had  finished  eating,  John  rose,  and,  as  he 
passed  him,  laid  his  hand  on  the  fisherman's 
brown,  hairy  fist  that  rested  on  the  table.  Noth- 


152  Hester  Blair 

ing  was  said  between  them;  and  with  a  sigh  of 
contentment,  they  lighted  the  cigars  which  John 
produced.  Well  as  John  knew  Slack,  he  could 
not  but  regard  him  with  added  and  wondering  ad- 
miration. He  realized  that  however  well  guarded 
the  events  of  the  past  week,  that  sooner  or  later, 
the  truth  would  find  its  way  to  Norton.  It  was 
not  the  truth  he  feared,  but  the  vicious  comment 
that  Hester's  conduct  and  relations  with  Feath- 
erly  would  occasion.  He  felt  the  utmost  con- 
fidence in  Slack's  discretion  and  judgment.  He 
knew  whatever  the  final  verdict,  that  for  the 
present,  at  least,  Slack  would  lose  no  time  in  lay- 
ing the  foundation  to  counteract  whatever  ill  re- 
ports that  might  have  gained  credence  among  the 
village  people. 

Millie's  searching  glance  took  in  every  detail 
of  the  fisherman's  dress.  He  felt  her  cold,  criti- 
cal eyes  upon  him,  and  shifted  uneasily  in  his 
chair.  What  was  amiss  with  him,  he  wondered? 
His  hand  sought  his  cravat.  It  was  askew.  He 
fumbled  his  waistcoat,  and  the  knowledge  that 
the  button  had  been  off  for  the  past  week  filled 
him  with  guilty  confusion.  The  stains  on  the 
front  of  his  best  coat  seemed  to  speak,  and  stood 
out  in  disgusting  relief.  He  puffed  nervously 
at  his  cigar,  and  drove  dense  clouds  of  smoke 
into  the  air  to  hide  his  short-comings;  for  he 
well  knew  that  the  comfort  of  smoking  would  be 
denied  him  if  John  were  not  there. 

Millie  went  about  clearing  the  table,  with  one 


Slack's  Return  to  Norton          153 

threatening  eye  fixed  on  the  offender.  He  racked 
his  brain  for  excuses,  but  only  one  worthy  of 
consideration  presented  itself — who  could  be  ex- 
pected to  comb  their  hair  on  a  railway  car?  With 
the  courage  of  this  logic  he  glanced  timidly  at 
Millie.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  with  chilly 
disapproval. 

"  It's  a  lucky  thing  for  some  folks  that  they 
come  home."  Her  voice  was  cutting.  She  stood 
beside  the  table  and  spoke  with  distressing  clear- 
ness, "  I  don't  believe  yer  hed  a  sock  darned 
sense  yer  bin  away.  Jest  look  at  thet  coat  es 
were  bran  new  when  yer  left  hum !  John,  will  yer 
look  et  it ! "  She  cast  an  appealing  glance  at 
John,  who  manifested  becoming  interest,  and, 
as  far  as  he  could,  bestowed  a  look  of  stern  dis- 
approval at  the  wearer  of  the  "  brand  new  coat." 

Millie,  with  a  sigh  of  resignation,  picked  up 
some  dishes  from  the  table.  John  smiled,  and 
cast  a  commiserating  glance  at  the  offender, 
whose  eyes  twinkled  merrily. 

"  What  a  shame,"  she  went  on,  "  an'  he  paid 
twelve  dollars  fer  thet  suit.  I  know  Sam  Prouty 
cheated  him;  an'  I'm  glad  uv  et,  'longs  he  don' 
know  'nough  ter  take  proper  keer  ef  it.  Sam 
Prouty  may  be  a  deacon,  an'  hev  th'  best  pew 
in  th'  church;  but  I  know  no  true  Christian 
would  charge  such  prices  as  he  do." 

Here  was  a  subject  they  could  agree  upon,  and 
Slack  nodded  his  head  in  acquiescence. 

"  Goin'  'long  ter  th'  village,  John?  "  inquired 


154  Hester  Blair 

Slack,  before  Millie  could  discover  further  cause 
for  criticism. 

"  Yes,"  John  answered,  "  as  far  as  the  office." 

"  Well,"  drawled  Slack  in  a  quizzical  tone, 
"  yer  see,  th'  boys  know  by  this  time  thet  I've  got 
home,  'n  sooner  'n  hev  'em  lay  awake  all  night,  I 
thought  as  how  I'd  go  down  ter  th'  village,  an' 
enlighten  'em  on  some  pints  I  s'pect  they'd  like 
ter  know.  Er  course  th'  ain't  'nquisitive  er  any- 
thing like  thet!  May  be  it's  because  they  hev  a 
pursonal  interest  in  my  doin's." 

"  Well,"  retorted  Millie,  who  had  listened  to 
the  latter  part  of  Slack's  remarks,  "  I  wouldn't 
go  a  galavanting  down  ter  th'  store  ef  I  was  you. 
I  do  believe  the  men  folks  gossip  more  'n  any  ole 
woman  in  th'  village." 

Slack  smiled.  He  recognized  the  truth  of  her 
remarks. 

"I  won't  be  late,  Millie,  'n  I'll  shet  up  th' 
house  when  I  git  back." 

Millie  persisted  that  "  she  couldn't  fer  th'  life 
ef  her  see  th'  sense  in  it,"  and  her  querulous  voice 
followed  the  two  men  into  the  starlit  night. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SALLY  PITTS  ASKS  QUESTIONS  OF  SLACK 

Clear  is   the   night,  the  snow  gleams  bright, 
The  moonbeams  dance  far  out  to  sea. 

To  a  lover's  sigh,  night  breezes  die; 
And  the  stars  blink  down  in  ecstasy. 

SLACK  and  his  companion  walked  slowly,  con- 
versing in  earnest  tones.  A  full  moon 
sailed  majestically  in  a  star-besprinkled 
sea  of  blue.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  stillness,  ex- 
cept the  footsteps  of  the  two  men,  that  crushed 
the  snow  in  a  series  of  sharp,  metallic  echoes. 
The  wood  smoke  from  the  chimneys  of  the  vil- 
lage, ascended  straight  heavenward.  The  lights, 
from  the  half-curtained  windows  of  the  cottages, 
flickered  feebly,  dwarfed  into  insignificant  glim- 
merings by  the  sheen-like  brilliancy  without. 
Beyond  the  harbor,  that  was  partly  coated  with 
thin  ice,  the  rippled  surface  of  the  water  threw 
back  a  million  gleams  of  sparkling  silver,  that 
danced,  gnome-like,  to  the  resplendent  moon. 

As  Slack  and  his  companion  reached  the  main 
street,  John,  with  a  cheery,  "  good-night,"  turned 
in  the  direction  of  his  office,  and  Slack  proceeded 
on  his  way  to  the  village  store. 

When  opposite  the  church  he  heard  his  name 

155 


156  Hester  Blair 

called  softly;  and  he  stopped  abruptly.  It  was 
a  weak,  piping  little  voice,  but  it  had  the  power 
to  arrest  the  fisherman,  and  he  responded  with- 
out hesitancy. 

"  Why,  dear  little  Sally !  What  er  yer  doin' 
at  th'  church  at  this  hour?  " 

"  O,  I'm  so  glad  ter  see  you  again,  Slacky ! " 
Sally  rejoined. 

She  took  his  hand  that  he  extended  to  her  and 
pressed  it  to  her  cheek.  She  continued : 

"  Come  into  the  church  with  me  a  little  while, 
Slacky,  will  you?  O,  it's  lovely  when  the  moon 
shines  through  the  windows." 

Slack  dearly  -loved  the  child.  He  knew  her 
odd  ways,  and  her  request  did  not  in  the  least 
surprise  him.  She  was  unlike  other  children, — 
unlike  anyone  he  had  ever  known.  She  lived  in 
a  little  world  of  her  own,  peopled  by  fanciful 
ideas  and  images,  that  were  as  real  to  her  as  were 
those  with  whom  she  came  in  daily  contact. 
Her  home  life,  which  had  been  dreary  in  the  ex- 
treme, only  intensified  her  longing  for  solitude. 
Slack,  holding  the  child's  hand  in  his  own,  en- 
tered the  church,  and  they  seated  themselves 
near  the  door,  where  the  moonlight,  streaming 
through  the  stained-glass  windows,  bathed  them 
in  a  flood  of  fantastic  colors. 

"Isn't  this  beautiful?"  the  child  asked. 

"  Why  yes,"  answered  the  prosaic  fisherman, 
"  but  it  'pears  ter  me  ter  be  a  bit  lonesome.  Why 
der  yer  come  here,  Sally,  ain't  yer  a  feered?  " 


Sally  Pitts  Asks  Questions  of  Slack     157 

"  O  my,  no,"  she  laughed.  It  was  a  musical 
little  outburst  of  mirth  that  vibrated  through  the 
empty  church.  "  I'm  never  afraid.  When  I'm 
here  alone  I  think  such  beautiful  things.  Don't 
you  ever,  Slacky?  " 

"  Well  yes,"  answered  Slack  dubiously,  "  when 
I  hev  a  good  summer's  ketch  er  fish,  er  Millie 
ain't  cranky,  er  somethin'  like  thet;  don't  know 
but  I  do."  ' 

Sally's  laugh  came  back  in  rippling  echoes. 

"  O,  I  don't  mean  that !  Don't  you  ever  see 
beautiful  things  when  you  are  alone  some- 
times? " 

"  Em,"  ejaculated  the  fisherman,  "  yer  know, 
Sally,  thet  my  eyesight  ain't  as  good  as  it  used 
ter  be.  P'r'aps  thet's  th'  reason  thet  I  don'  see 
things." 

Young  as  Sally  was,  she  realized  that  her  com- 
panion was  too  material  to  understand  what  was 
to  her  another  life.  She  turned  the  current  of 
their  conversation. 

"Do  people  always  get  married  in  church?" 
she  asked. 

"  Not  allus,"  he  replied,  "  but  it's  quite  com- 
mon." 

"  Tell  me  what  they  do  when  they  get  mar- 
ried." 

"  Well,  bein'  as  how  I  never  had  any  exper'- 
ence,  I  d'know  as  I  kin." 

"  They  come  in  at  the  door  and  walk  into  the 
vestry?" 


158  Hester  Blair 

"  S'pose  they  do,"  he  muttered. 

"  And  when  they  are  married,  the  minister 
gives  them  a  paper?  " 

"  Yes,  thet's  a  marriage  certif'ket." 

"  What's  thet  for?  " 

"  Why  thet's  ter  show  thet  they've  been  mar- 
ried." 

Fr.om  the  certificate  to  Hester  and  the  latest 
tidings  she  had  gleaned  of  her,  was  a  circle  that 
the  child's  active  mind  quickly  traversed.  She 
looked  up  into  the  eyes  of  her  companion  that 
beamed  affectionately  upon  her. 

"  I  saw  Jed  to-night,"  she  said,  after  a  momen- 
tary pause. 

"  Did  yer?  "  queried  Slack  with  manifest  in- 
terest, "  what  did  he  hev  ter  say?  " 

"  Told  me  all  about  Hessie." 

"  Did  he?  Em — "  the  tone  of  the  ejaculation 
spoke  volumes. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  child,  as  if  recounting 
some  rare  good  fortune  of  her  own,  "  how  Hessie 
is  playin'  all  the  time,  and  making  lots  of  money ! 
O,  I'm  so  glad !  " 

Slack  patted  her  on  the  head  with  a  woman's 
gentleness,  and  taking  one  of  her  wasted  little 
hands  in  his  own,  fondled  it  caressingly.  The 
clock  in  the  belfry  struck  the  hour  of  eight. 

"  I  must  be  a  goin'  ter  th'  store,  Sally.  Ben't 
yer  goin'  home?  It's  late." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 


Sally  Pitts  Asks  Questions  of  Slack     1 59 

They  walked  slowly  up  the  aisle  of  the  church. 
As  they  neared  the  door  Sally  paused. 

"  Slacky,  if  we  were  going  to  be  married,  we'd 
walk  right  down  this  aisle  to  the  vestry." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  wondering  Slack. 

"  There  would  be  two  men  with  the  minister, 
and  he  would  read  out  of  a  book — " 

"  Yes,"  interjected  Slack  encouragingly. 

"  The  minister  would  give  me  a — what  did  you 
call  it,  Slacky?" 

"  Certif'ket." 

"  That's  it,"  she  continued ;  "  and  if  it  was 
dark,  the  minister  would  hold  the  light  for  us  to 
go  out." 

"  S'pose  he  would,"  agreed  her  companion. 

"  And  when  we  were  going  out  we  would  stop 
to  put  on  my  cloak  here,  and  if  I  dropped  the 
certif'ket— " 

"  Then  I  s'pose  yer'd  pick  it  up  agin,"  inter- 
rupted the  practical  fisherman. 

"  But  suppose  I  didn't  know  that  I  dropped 
it?" 

"  O,  thet  would  be  different." 

"  And  suppose  a  little  girl  like  me  was  sitting 
in  that  seat  and  saw  me  drop  the  paper." 

"  Then  she'd  pick  it  up  and  give  it  ter  yer." 

"  But  suppose  we  were  running  away,  and 
didn't  want  the  little  girl  to  know ;  and  we  didn't 
know  the  little  girl  was  there?  What  should  she 
do  with  the  paper,  Slacky?  " 


160  Hester  Blair 

In  her  excitement  Sally  grasped  her  compan- 
ion's hand  in  both  her  own.  Her  eyes  shone  like 
coals  of  fire;  and  the  moonlight  intensified  the 
pallor  of  her  face,  giving  to  it  an  uncanny  ex- 
pression that  startled  her  companion.  He  be- 
lieved it  to  be  one  of  her  odd,  childish  fancies, 
and  was  willing  to  humor  her.  He  replied : 

"  Well,  p'r'aps  the  little  girl  would  keep  it, 
and  if  we  ever  wanted  it  she'd  hev  it  safe." 

A  sigh  of  satisfaction  preceded  her  answer. 
"  I  knew  you'd  say  that,  Slacky.  Come,  let  us 
go." 

They  passed  out  of  the  church  to  the  street. 

As  they  neared  the  store  Slack  bade  the  child 
an  affectionate  good-night.  "  Come  up  ter  th' 
house  ter-morrer  an'  I'll  tell  yer  all  'bout  New 
York." 

"  Will  you,  Slacky?     O  aren't  you  good!  " 

Her  eyes  danced  with  expectancy;  and  her 
feet  barely  touched  the  snow  covered  ground  as 
she  ran  down  the  street. 

Slack  stood  at  the  door  before  entering.  He 
knew  only  too  well  the  ordeal  he  had  to  face. 
He  could  tell  to  a  man  those  whom  he  would 
meet;  he  could  almost  hear  their  voices  as  they 
speculated  on  his  doings  while  in  New  York. 

The  village  people  were  endowed  with  all  the 
weaknesses  of  untutored  minds  that  isolation 
from  the  world  breeds.  Their  scope  of  inter- 
course was  narrow,  and  their  intellects  were  con- 
tracted to  conform  to  their  surroundings.  They 


Sally  Pitts  Asks  Questions  of  Slack    161 

placed  themselves  on  a  moral  plane  far  above 
their  ability  to  maintain,  and  viewed  their  fel- 
lows with  unwarranted  severity.  They  were  so 
far  like  their  betters  as  to  assume  virtues  they 
did  not  possess,  and  to  damn  with  vigor  those 
unfortunate  enough  to  fall  under  their  displeas- 
ure. Wherein  they  were  much  like  ordinary 
mortals.  Their  simple  minds  magnified  a  failing 
into  a  sin,  and  a  sin  into  a  crime.  They  nomi- 
nated themselves  judges ;  but  their  verdicts  were 
tempered  with  neither  discernment  nor  charity. 
Slack  knew  them, — he  knew  them  well;  and  a 
life-long  intimacy  did  not  strengthen  his  regard 
for  them — quite  the  contrary ;  and  he  held  them 
— as  a  community — in  contempt.  But  there 
were  exceptions : — there  always  are.  It  is  a  sad 
doctrine  that  teaches  us  that  all  men  are  born 
equal.  They  may  be  in  the  sight  of  Heaven ;  but 
that  they  are  not  equal,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
is  becoming  a  fixed  belief.  And  it  is  well.  It  is 
the  exceptions  that  make  life  bearable,  and  act 
as  a  check  to  the  consuming  human  passions. 
Give  one  a  pure  mind,  tempered  by  charity,  and 
Heaven  is  not  far  removed. 

With  these  feelings  in  his  heart,  Slack  opened 
the  door  and  entered.  He  was  met  by  a  dense 
cloud  of  tobacco  smoke  and  a  vociferous  volley 
of  greetings.  They  all  spoke  at  once.  Each  in- 
dividual in  the  room  endeavored  to  shake  his 
hand  at  the  same  time;  while  each  in  his  turn 
offered  his  seat  to  the  urbane  Slack,  whose  fea- 


1 62  Hester  Blair 

tures  were  wreathed  in  an  impenetrable  smile. 
His  aggravatingly  calm  exterior  had  an  air  of 
alertness,  an  expectancy  of  attack.  He  was  on 
the  defensive. 

Capt.  Edwards  began  the  discussion  with : 

"  How's  New  York  and  how  be  Hessie  a 
doin'?" 

"  Well's  could  be  expected  in  such  a  short 
time ;  tolerable  well,"  was  the  nonchalant  reply. 

Here  wras  a  divergence  at  the  outset  from 
Jed's  glowing  account  of  Hester's  success.  Be- 
ing familiar  with  Slack's  habit  of  withholding 
facts  concerning  the  Blair  family,  it  only  con- 
firmed their  belief  that  Jed's  version  was  the 
more  authentic. 

Slack  watched  the  effect  of  his  answer  with 
satisfaction.  There  was  a  look  of  "  we  know 
more  about  it  than  you  think  we  do,"  stamped 
on  every  countenance,  while  the  fishermen  ex- 
changed glances.  He  chuckled  inwardly,  but  his 
features  retained  their  sphinx-like  expression. 

"  How  did  yer  find  New  York?  "  queried  the 
captain. 

"  Middlin',"  was  the  off  hand  answer,  "  o' 
course  my  stay  wa'n't  long  'nough  ter  get  ac- 
quainted with  th'  fust  families;  still  I  got  ter 
know  a  few." 

"  How's  the  fellers  yer  hed  ter  work  with  ?  " 
demanded  Portuguese  Joe. 

"  Tip-top,"  answered  Slack  warmly.  "  Mr. 
Featherly  hed  a  coachman  who  used  ter  drive 


Sally  Pitts  Asks  Questions  of  Slack     163 

fer  Queen  Victory.  Me  an'  'm  wer5  thicker  'n 
six  in  a  bed." 

"  Is  thet  so !  "  exclaimed  Joe. 

"  O  yes,"  Slack's  voice  was  tinged  with  regret. 
"  I  hated  ter  part  with  'im,  he  wer'  so  enter- 
tainin'.  We  wer'  jest  like  two  brothers." 

"  An'  th'  Bowery?  How  wer'  it? "  laughed 
Capt.  Edwards,  "  Bad's  they  say  it  is?  " 

"  Jest  as  quiet  as  the  main  street  of  the  vil- 
lage," replied  Slack,  "  used  ter  tend  th'  gospel 
meetin's  there  most  every  night." 

"  Then  they  must  tell  some  consarned  lies 
about  it !  "  rejoined  Joe.  "  Why,"  he  continued 
with  warmth,  "  Ned  Hasting,  as  used  ter  belong 
ter  th'  life-savin'  station — he  afterwards  shipped 
on  a  four-master — tole  me  with  his  own  mouth, 
as  how  he  got  paid  off,  an'  hed  two  hundred  dol- 
lars a  comin'  ter  'im.  They  unloaded  in  New 
York,  an'  Ned  kinder  thought  he'd  like  ter  see 
the  Bowery.  He  strolled  down  ther'  nine  or  ten 
o'clock  one  night,  an'  how  long  d'yer  think  thet 
two  hundred  dollars  lasted?" 

None  dared  venture  a  guess,  and  Joe  con- 
tinued: "Jest  two  hours!  He  found  himself 
fust  in  th'  gutter,  then  in  th'  lockup,  'n  he  didn' 
hev  a  copper.  He  tried  to  argue  with  the  police- 
man thet  he  had  bin  robbed,  an'  it  took  four 
stitches  ter  sew  up  his  head  when  the  officer  got 
through  clubbin'  'im." 

"  I  found  them  most  agreeable,"  Slack  quietly 
remarked.  "  They  be  nearly  all  Down  Easters ; 


164  Hester  Blair 

leastwise  those  I  met  wer*.  They  tole  me  so. 
One  feller  stepped  up  ter  me  an'  said :  '  Hello 
Hiram.'  I  asked  'im  how  in  thunder  he  knowed 
my  name.  He  said,  1 1  used  ter  know  yer  "  Down 
East "  years  ago.'  O,  he  were  real  kind !  Sort 
er  took  an  interest  in  me  from  th'  start;  an'  I 
felt  just  the  same  toward  him.  He  offered  ter 
show  me  th'  sights,  'n  'fore  I  left  'm,  yer'd  jest 
hev  ter  pull  us  apart.  It  wer'  like  my  partin' 
from  the  coachman  what  drove  for  Queen  Vic- 
tory." 

Slack  failed  to  add  that  it  required  Mr.  Feath- 
erly's  influence,  and  a  liberal  sum  of  money,  to 
extricate  him  from  the  trouble.  What  did  more, 
perhaps,  was  the  fact  that  the  friend  who  had 
known  him  "  Down  East "  was  a  notorious 
tough, — a  character  well  known  to  the  police. 
After  Slack's  encounter  with  him,  the  accomodat- 
ing  stranger  was  in  the  hospital  two  weeks  for 
repairs.  But  the  fisherman  considered  it  un- 
necessary to  speak  of  these  details. 

"  D'yer  see  any  o'  the  folks  as  wer'  down  here 
last  summer?  "  asked  Capt.  Edwards. 

"  Well,"  drawled  Slack,  "  there  was  one  as 
wanted  ter  be  remembered  ter  yer,  Captain." 

"  The  widder,"  they  yelled  in  chorus. 

Capt.  Edwards  attempted  to  speak,  but  his 
voice  was  drowned  in  the  uproar.  When  quiet 
was  resumed  Slack  said : 

"  Yer  won't  hev  ter  guess  agin." 

"  How  wer*  she  lookin',  Slacky?  " 


Sally  Pitts  Asks  Questions  of  Slack     165 

"  Like  a  rose  bush  on  a  June  day,"  he  replied. 

"  Be  she  comin'  here  next  summer?  " 

"  Spect  she  be.  Er  course  I  don'  know  what'll 
happen  'fore  thet  time.  She  be  a  mighty  good 
Lookin'  woman;  an'  she's  hed  three  tries  at  it 
afore." 

A  simultaneous  movement  was  made  to  ad- 
journ for  the  night.  They  could  discuss  Slack's 
visit  to  New  York  more  freely  when  he  was  not 
present;  and  the  remainder  of  the  long  winter 
evenings  were  before  them.  The  door  was 
opened,  and  a  flood  of  bright  moon-light  guided 
them  into  the  night  without. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

LOVE  GROWS   NOT  LESS  BY   WAITING 

I'll  keep  all  vows  you  ask  for  your  dear  sake 
But  one — to  love  you  less — that  will  I  break. 

IT  was  the  month  of  March  following  the  death 
of  Ralph  Featherly. 
Hester  had  taken  up  her  abode  in  modest 
quarters  on  the  west  side  of  the  city.  The  rooms, 
two  in  number,  were  neatly  but  inexpensively 
furnished,  and  were  in  marked  contrast  to  the 
luxurious  apartment  she  had  occupied  during 
the  first  few  months  of  her  stay  in  New  York. 
She  had  succeeded  in  procuring  the  position  of 
organist  in  one  of  the  semi-fashionable  churches, 
and  her  income,  though  not  large,  was  more  than 
sufficient  for  her  modest  wants.  She  had  lived 
quietly  for  the  past  few  months,  seeing  but  few 
of  her  former  friends.  Mrs.  Pendleton  had 
called  upon  her,  but  glad  as  Hester  was  to  see 
her,  she  did  not  encourage  her  visits. 

Mrs.  Pendleton  had  been  aware  of  the  attach- 
ment that  existed  between  Hester  and  Featherly 
while  they  were  at  Norton.  She  had  even  en- 
couraged it,  and  expressed  the  hope  to  Featherly 
that  it  would  result  in  marriage.  She  loved 
Hester,  and  it  was  with  keen  disappointment 

166 


Love  Grows  Not  Less  By  Waiting     167 

that  she  recognized  her  disinclination  to  keep 
up  more  than  a  formal  acquaintance.  Hester 
appreciated  Mrs.  Pendleton's  trust  in  her,  but 
she  wished  to  be  alone ;  for  intercourse  with  her 
former  friends  only  kept  alive  the  sorrow  and 
humiliation  she  had  gone  through. 

John  Gary,  however,  was  a  regular  visitor; 
but  he  was  forced  to  content  himself  with  one 
weekly  call.  He  made  the  most  of  these,  trust- 
ing that  time  would  bring  to  Hester  peace  of 
mind  and  the  happiness  of  former  years.  The 
world  had  gone  well  with  him,  and  he  had  ad- 
vanced with  rapid  strides  in  the  shipping  office 
where  he  was  employed. 

There  was  a  tacit  understanding  between  Hester 
and  John,  that  they  would  not  in  any  way  allude 
to  the  past;  and  a  further  agreement,  that  he 
was  not  to  speak  to  her  of  love.  It  was  no  easy 
matter  for  him  to  conform  to  this  arrangement; 
but  he  struggled  manfully,  though  not  with  en- 
tire success.  It  pained  Hester  to  see  his  unalter- 
able devotion ;  and,  realizing  his  faith  in  her,  it 
touched  her,  as  nothing  else  could  do. 

She  was  much  occupied  with  her  duties  as  or- 
ganist, and  the  remainder  of  her  time  she  de- 
voted to  study,  and  to  works  of  charity.  These 
were  so  quietly  and  secretly  performed,  that  but 
few  knew  of  them.  She  had  associated  herself 
with  a  committee  from  the  church,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  seek  out  and  assist  worthy  cases  for 
charity ;  and  it  was  John's  weekly  call  that  broke 


1 68  Hester  Blair 

the  endless  routine.  She  grudgingly  granted  his 
request  that  he  might  come  to  see  her ;  but  it  was 
not  long  before  she  began  to  look  forward  to  his 
visits  as  an  essential  part  of  her  life.  When  she 
thought  of  his  love  that  had  remained  steadfast 
through  all  these  years,  when  she  considered  that 
his  faith  in  her  had  never  wavered  during  her  life 
with  Featherly,  though  appearances  were  such  as 
might  warrant  him  in  condemning  her,  her  heart 
beats  quickened,  and  a  sigh  of  gratitude,  tinged 
with  a  tenderer  emotion,  would  escape  her. 

On  the  mantel  over  the  open  fireplace  was  his 
photograph,  between  her  own  and  Ethel's,  and 
she  would  often  stand  before  it  and  gaze  at  his 
handsome,  open  countenance.  He  was  the  same 
to-day  as  when  they  had  climbed  the  bluff  at 
Norton,  or  had  romped  together  as  school  fel- 
lows,— frank,  generous  to  a  fault,  with  a  keen 
sense  of  justice,  and  the  highest  of  chivalric 
honor.  It  was  during  the  past  few  months  that 
she  realized  his  true  worth.  She  now  appre- 
ciated his  love — constant  in  its  loyalty,  and  un- 
selfish in  its  manly  devotion.  She  did  not,  how- 
ever, encourage  him.  She  knew,  only  too  well, 
the  stigma  that  had  been  cast  upon  her  name, — 
that  the  world  would  judge  her  by  appearances 
only;  and  that  it  was  her  misfortune  that  these 
were  against  her.  She  had  anticipated  the  time 
when  John  would  renew  his  offer  of  marriage, 
and  was  firmly  determined  to  discourage  his 
suit.  It  was  not  of  herself  that  she  thought,  but 


Love  Grows  Not  Less  By  Waiting     169 

of  him.  She  felt  that  the  cloud  that  was  on  her 
name  would  cling  to  her  through  life,  and  in  after 
years  rise,  ghost-like,  between  them. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  early  spring. 
John  had  called  at  Hester's  rooms  and  had  been 
informed  by  the  janitress  that  Hester  was  not  at 
home.  He  left  a  small  basket  of  fruit,  saying  he 
would  come  again  later  in  the  day.  He  had  gone 
but  a  few  minutes  when  the  door  bell  rang,  and 
Fenton  was  admitted  to  the  outer  hall.  He 
mounted  the  stairs  and  knocked  at  Hester's  door. 
Miss  Healy,  the  janitress,  was  in  the  room  pre- 
paring Hester's  supper.  She  opened  the  door, 
and  Fenton,  without  an  invitation,  entered. 

Miss  Healy  was  a  spinster  of  about  five  and 
forty  years,  with  a  florid,  open  countenance.  An 
air  of  good-natured  aggressiveness  dominated 
her.  She  took  care  of  Hester's  rooms,  and  filled 
the  position  of  housekeeper  and  general  servant. 
She  was  blunt  and  outspoken;  feared  neither 
man,  woman  nor  child ;  yet  withal,  a  kindhearted 
creature  thoroughly  devoted  to  Hester. 

She  looked  Fenton  over  suspiciously.  She  was 
not  pleased  with  his  appearance  or  manner  of  en- 
tering. She  stood  in  front  of  him  and  scowled 
her  displeasure. 

"  What  the  divil  d'yer  want  comin'  in  this  way 
without  bein'  ast?  "  she  demanded. 

Fenton  favored  her  with  a  patronizing  stare. 

"  My  dear  Mrs. — " 

"  I'm  no  Mrs.  if  yer  plaze.     Fm  a  Miss  sor,  an* 


170  Hester  Blair 

as  yer  not  good  at  guessin',  my  name's  Healy,  and 
I'm  the  janitress.  Now  what's  yer  name,  an' 
what  der  yer  want?  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Miss  Fealy — " 

•'  Healy,  sor,  Healy,"  she  roared  with  rising 
anger. 

"  Healy,  to  be  sure.  I  called  to  see  Miss 
Blair." 

"  Well,"  came  the  reply,  "  ef  yer  eyesight  is 
anyways  good,  yer'll  see  that  she's  not  at- 
home." 

Fenton  took  a  bank  bill  from  his  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  the  astonished  Healy.  It  was  of 
large  denomination  and  represented,  to  her,  a 
month's  wages.  In  his  most  conciliatory  tone  he 
said : 

"  I'm  sorry  to  have  caused  you  so  much  trouble, 
Miss  Healy.  The  fact  is,  I'm  a  friend  of  Miss 
Blair,  and  I  wished  to  give  her  a  little  surprise. 
As  she  is  not  at  home,  I  prefer  that  you  say 
nothing  of  my  visit.  I  will  call  again." 

Miss  Healy  looked  at  the  money  which  she  held 
in  her  hand,  then  at  Fenton.  She  muttered : 

"  A  twenty  dollar  bill !  Sure  that  man  must 
be  crazy ! " 

Nothing  escaped  Fenton's  observation: — the 
plain  furnishings,  the  modest  side-board,  the  few 
common  chairs  and  the  one  rocking  chair. 

"  Not  particularly  luxurious,"  he  muttered 
under  his  breath.  He  approached  the  table  on 
which  was  the  basket  of  fruit.  "  Em,"  he 


Love  Grows  Not  Less  By  Waiting     171 

mused,  "  lives  well !  Peaches  at  two  dollars  a 
dozen !  A  church  organist  can  hardly  afford  it." 

Miss  Healy  followed  his  movement.  "  A  presi 
ent  from  Mr.  Gary,"  she  said,  as  Fenton  seemed 
interested.  He  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Does  he  call  often?  "  he  asked. 

"  'Bout  onct  a  week,"  she  replied. 

Fenton  turned  to  the  sideboard  and,  unseen  by 
Miss  Healy,  one  of  his  gloves  dropped  to  the  floor. 
He  walked  toward  the  door. 

"  Miss  Healy,"  he  said,  "  I  knew  Miss  Blair 
before  she  came  to  New  York.  I  can  trust  you  to 
say  nothing  of  my  visit  until  I  call  again?  " 

"  Sure,"  she  replied,  "  I  suppose  there's  no 
harrum  done  in  sayin'  nothin'." 

"  Quite  so,"  he  replied,  "  After  I  have  seen  Miss 
Blair  she  will  explain.  Good-day,  Miss  Healy." 
The  door  closed  after  him  and  he  was  gone. 

Miss  Healy  stood  motionless  for  some  time. 
She  was  not  entirely  satisfied  that  she  had  done 
right.  Twenty  dollar  bills  were  not  given  to 
servants  without  some  adequate  return.  Of  that, 
she  was  certain.  What  did  he  expect  of  her? 
To  say  nothing  to  Hester  of  his  call?  She  argued 
that  there  could  be  no  great  harm  in  remaining 
silent,  If  a  doubt  as  to  his  honest  intention 
crossed  her  mind,  the  sight  of  the  bill  she  held  in 
her  hand  dispelled  it;  and  the  cupidity  with 
which  most  human  beings  are  endowed,  varying 
only  in  degree,  soothed  her  conscience,  and  the 
material  part  of  her  nature  triumphed. 


IJ2  Hester  Blair 

"  I  guess  it's  all  right,"  she  muttered,  "  any- 
how I'll  kape  th'  money." 

A  knock  at  the  door  startled  her. 

"  Come  in,"  she  called.     John  entered. 

"  Not  home  yet!  "  he  said,  "  I'll  wait" 

Miss  Healy  went  out  by  the  rear  entrance. 

John  walked  about  the  room.  He  inspected 
the  articles  in  a  work  basket  that  lay  on  a  small 
table.  "  A  woman's  paradise,"  he  said  softly, 
handling  the  contents  caressingly.  He  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  mantel,  and  seeing  Fen- 
ton's  glove  on  the  floor,  picked  it  up  and  exam- 
ined it  carefully. 

"  A  gentleman's  glove,"  he  mused,  "  and  of  the 
finest  quality: — slender  fingers,  small  hand,  and 
a  distinct  odor  of  lavender.  I  detest  perfumes 
when  affected  by  men;  but  men  don't  affect 
them.  Males  perhaps,  men — no."  He  looked  at 
the  glove  closely  and  spoke : 

"  Name  inside?  No,  initials  only.  G.  H.  F. 
Now  who  has  been  here  since  Hester  went  out? 
Someone,  surely;  otherwise  the  glove  wouldn't 
be  on  the  floor.  Well,  it's  not  for  me  to  say; 
but  I'll  keep  the  glove." 

He  walked  to  the  mantel  and  took  his  photo- 
graph from  the  wire  bracket. 

"  And  that's  my  humble  self !  "  He  laughed 
softly,  "  a  revised  edition,  edited  by  my  New 
York  tailor,  with  foot  notes  by  the  artist  pho- 
tographer. It  flatters  me  until  I  blush  at  the 
fraud.  Heigh-ho!  My  taste  must  be  depraved', 


Love  Grows  Not  Less  By  Waiting     173 

for  after  all,  I  prefer  the  homely  Norton  clothing, 
creaseless  trousers  and  all." 

He  replaced  his  photograph  and  looked  at 
Ethel's.  "  Dear  little  Ethel,"  there  was  a  note 
of  tenderness  in  his  voice,  "  with  the  eyes  of  in- 
nocence that  penetrate  one's  very  soul."  He  took 
Hester's  portrait  in  his  hands  and  held  it  before 
him.  He  was  standing  in  front  of  a  mirror  which 
was  directly  opposite  the  door  that  led  to  the 
front  hall.  He  looked  at  the  portrait  long  and 
intently.  He  did  not  hear  the  door  open,  or  see 
Hester  who  had  entered  noiselessly.  He  spoke 
softly :  "  Dear  Hester — "  he  saw  her  reflection 
in  the  mirror.  She  smiled. 

"  John  dear,  I  don't  mind  your  making  love  to 
my  photograph,  but  remember  your  promise." 

He  took  both  her  hands  in  his  own  as  he  an- 
swered : 

"  I  am  not  allowed  to  forget  it.  I  am  curbed 
and  bridled,  both  tongue  and  limb.  But  Hester 
dear,  there  are  some  words  in  the  English  lan- 
guage that  I'd  sooner  not  forget." 

"John  dear,  it  is  better  as  it  is;  better  that 
you  do  forget;  and  now,"  she  continued  as  she 
laid  her  hat  and  wrap  on  the  sofa,  "  a  cup  of  tea." 

She  saw  the  fruit  on  the  table  and,  shaking  her 
finger  at  him,  assumed  her  most  severe  tone. 

"  Peaches  at  this  season  of  the  year !  What 
extravagance !  If  you  continue  it,  you  know  the 
penalty." 

"  Expulsion,  and  all  because  of  a  few  peaches ! 


174  Hester  Blair 

Am  I  to  be  allowed  nothing?  "  he  asked  with 
mock  chagrin,  "  Not  even  to  spend  my  salary  as 
it  pleases  me?  " 

"  I  don't  care  how  you  spend  your  salary,"  she 
rejoined,  "  if  you  don't  squander  it  on  luxuries 
that  I  can  very  well  do  without."  She  paused  in 
her  tea  making  and  surveyed  him  with  proud  in- 
terest. "  And,"  she  continued,  "  aren't  you  get- 
ting on  famously  in  the  office !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  ruefully,  "  but — " 

"  There,  there,  John  dear,  the  tea  is  ready.  Sit 
here."  She  motioned  him  to  a  chair  opposite  her. 

"  Do  you  know  John,  I  feel  quite  elated.  I  was 
paid  my  salary  to-day.  O,  money  never  seems  so 
good  as  when  you  earn  it!  I  counted  it  again 
and  again." 

"  I'll  warrant  the  church  people  parted  with  it 
reluctantly  enough — like  pulling  teeth." 

"  Quite  the  contrary,  John  dear.  They  paid  me 
with  the  utmost  good  grace,  and  complimented 
me  for  my  playing.  O,  I  feel  quite  proud ;  and  1 
sent  the  money  to  pay  for  Ethel's  school  tuition." 

"  Brave  little  woman !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  received  a  letter  to-day  from  Norton.  From 
whom  do  you  think?  " 

"  From  Millie,"  he  ventured. 

"  No,  from  Slack.  I'll  read  it  to  you ;  that  is, 
as  much  of  it  as  I  can  decipher." 

Hester  took  the  letter  from  her  pocket  and 
read: 

" l  Dear  Hessie,  I  jest  thought  I'd  write  ter 


Love  Grows  Not  Less  By  Waiting     175 

yer,  bein — bein — '  I  never  can  make  that  out, 
no,  impossible ! " 

John  rose  and,  placing  his  chair  beside  her, 
looked  over  her  shoulder.  "  Let  me  see,"  he  de- 
manded. 

They  held  the  letter  before  them  to  read  it. 
Their  heads  were  close  together.  John  con- 
tinued : 

"  ' — As  how  yer  heven't  writ  ter  me.'  " 

"  Of  course !  "  Hester  agreed,  "  how  simple  it 
looks  now." 

John's  disengaged  arm  stole  around  her  waist. 
She  continued : 

"  *  We  be  a  waitin'  fer — fer — '  " 

"  '  Summer  time,'  "  John  interjected,  "  '  an'  it 
do  seem  as  though  the  Almighty  wer — er — er — ' ' 

"  '  Holdin' — '  "  John's  cheek  was  within  an 
inch  of  Hester's. 

" '  Onter  th'  days,  they  be  so  long  in  passin'  a 
waitin'  fer  summer.' " 

"  What  does  he  mean?  "  she  asked. 

"  He's  trying  to  tell  you  that  the  days  seem 
long  waiting  for  summer,  when  you  go  home  to 
Norton." 

"  Dear  Slack,"  murmured  Hester.  John  moved 
his  chair  a  little  nearer.  Hester  proceeded. 

" '  Millie's  a  studyin'  up  a  new  cook  book  ter 
surprise  yer.  She's  well,  and  able  ter  do  her 
usual  amount  o'  frettin'.  Sally  Hopkin's  goin' 
ter  marry  Zeke  Newcomb.  Zeke,  he  ain't  done  a 
day's  work  fer  five  years.  Good  fer  Zeke,  I  wish 


176  Hester  Blair 

I  could  get  'long  thout  it  same's  he  do.  No  more 
— no  more — ' 

"  *  From — ' "  John's  breath  as  he  spoke, 
brushed  Hester's  cheek. 

"  '  Old  Slack,'  "  concluded  Hester. 

"  But  see !  "  said  John,  "  there's  a  postscript !  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Hester. 

"  *  P.  S.  Afore  I  go  inter  th'  house,  I  jest  look 
in  at  the  winder,  an'  if  Millie  hes  her  lips  pressed 
— pressed — '  "  "  Tight,"  volunteered  John.  As 
if  it  were  a  gentle  reminder,  his  arm  tightened 
around  Hessie's  waist.  She  continued : 

" ' — I  jest  don'  go  inter  the  house  at  all.  I 
heven't  combed  my  hair  fer  a  week,  'cause  it 
makes  Millie  so  dern  mad.  Yer  shud  hear  her 
go  it— Slack.' ' 

John's  cheek  was  pressed  to  Hester's.  "  Let's 
read  it  all  over  again,"  he  said. 

Hester  laughed  and  motioned  him  to  a  seat  op- 
posite her. 

"  I  can  get  on  very  well  alone,  John,  but  isn't 
that  just  like  Slack?  " 

John,  with  a  regretful  sigh,  seated  himself  op- 
posite. 

"  One  more  cup  of  tea,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will 
help  you  on  with  your  coat." 

"So  soon?" 

"  Yes,  I  must  play  at  the  church  to-night." 

"  And  I'll  go  and  listen,  and  love  you  from  the 
far  end  of  the  church.  You  don't  object  to  that, 
do  you,  Hester?  " 


Love  Grows  Not  Less  By  Waiting     177 

"  No,"  she  laughed,  "  not  with  the  length  of  the 
church  between  us." 

She  assisted  him  to  put  on  his  coat.  When  it 
was  on,  he  turned  quickly,  and  folding  his  arms 
about  her  held  her  close  to  him. 

"  Don't  John,"  she  protested,  while  the  blood 
rushed  to  her  cheek  and  neck,  "  remember  your 
promise." 

"  Hester  dear,  love  promises  are  made  to  be 
broken.  I  am  neither  ice  nor  stone,  but  a  strong 
man,  with  a  strong  man's  love.  I  can't  go  on  see- 
ing you  week  after  week  and  suppress  my  feel- 
ings." 

"  John,"  she  answered  sadly,  "  you  make  it- 
harder  for  both  of  us.  If  you  persist,  I  shall 
have  to  deny  myself  the  one  comfort  left  me — 
that  of  seeing  you.  I  know  dear  friend,  your 
worth.  I  wish  to  keep  you  near  me,  but  we  must 
go  on  as  we  are,  without  change,  without  hope." 

He  kissed  her  on  the  cheek  and  released  her. 

"  There  Hester,"  he  said,  "  perhaps  I  shall  do 
better  in  the  future,  but  don't  ask  me  to  make 
any  more  promises,  for  I  shall  surely  break 
them." 

With  a  parting  "  good-bye  "  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"  I  AM  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  HENRY  BLAIR  " 

Fear  lives  not  but  in  hearts  that's  tuned  to  shame, 

Distrust,  and  self-abasement;    nor  can  bastard 

Courage  counterfeit  the  ring  of  truth. 

'Tis  not  enough  to  say,  such  is,  or  is 

Not  so.     The  eye,  the  voice  and  gesture  lend 

To  truth  the  evidence  that  make  or  mar 

Plain  speaking     It  were  better  we  were  dumb, 

Than  tongue  should  play  the  knave's  part  and  betray  us. 

AFTER  John  had  left  her,  Hester  stood  for 
some  minutes  thinking.  She  knew  the 
depth  of  his  love ;  she  felt  that  it  was  his 
life,  his  very  existence.  She  shuddered,  for  she 
realized  that  the  time  would  come  when  she 
would  be  forced  to  give  him  an  answer.  She 
walked  to  the  mantel,  and,  looking  lovingly  at  his 
portrait,  spoke  softly : 

"  Dear  John,  there  isn't  a  woman  in  the  land 
but  would  be  proud  to  possess  your  love.  Noble, 
noble  John ! " 

With  a  sigh  she  went  about  her  work.  She 
cleared  the  tea  table  and  carried  the  dishes  into 
the  adjoining  room,  where  Miss  Healy  would 
find  them  when  she  did  her  work.  After  arrang- 
ing the  furniture, — as  it  was  too  early  to  go  to 
church, — she  busied  herself  with  some  fancy 
needle  work.  Her  mind  reverted  to  her  home; 

178 


"I  Am  the  Daughter  of  Henry  Blair"  179 

and  she  mentally  counted  the  weeks  and  the  days 
until  she  should  start  for  Norton.  She  longed 
to  see  her  sister ;  yet  it  was  with  misgivings  that 
she  considered  her  return.  As  for  herself,  she 
knew  the  village  gossips  would  not  spare  her; 
and  since  the  night  of  her  husband's  death,  when 
John  had  told  her  what  they  said,  she  could  not 
think  of  her  return  without  a  feeling  of  dread 
that  life  would  be  made  intolerable.  But  when 
she  thought  of  the  inmates  of  her  own  home — her 
own  family,  for  Slack  and  Millie  she  considered 
of  the  family — her  courage  returned.  John  was 
a  bulwark  of  strength,  to  stand  between  her  and 
the  venom-dipped  tongues  that  would  assail  her 
name.  But  more  than  all,  the  consciousness  that 
before  God  she  was  pure,  gave  her  added  courage 
to  brave  the  ordeal.  It  was  not  alone  her  prom- 
ise that  deterred  her  from  a  declaration  of  her 
marriage.  All  evidences  of  it  had  been  de- 
stroyed. The  Rev.  Dr.  Coulton  was  dead;  the 
witnesses, — seamen  on  her  husband's  yacht — had 
disappeared;  the  records  of  the  parsonage  had 
been  destroyed  by  fire;  and  her  unsupported 
word  was  all  she  had  to  offer.  This,  without 
further  proof,  she  knew  to  be  insufficient.  But 
even  if  the  proof  were  obtainable,  she  would  not 
have  produced  it.  Her  promise  not  to  disclose 
her  marriage  she  held  sacred;  doubly  so  since 
the  death  of  her  husband. 

These  thoughts  filled  her  mind  when  she  was 
startled  by  a  knock  at  the  door.     It  was  an  event 


180  Hester  Blair 

for  any  one  to  call  and  it  occurred  to  her  that  per- 
haps John  had  returned. 

"  Come  in,"  her  voice  was  unsteady. 

Fenton  hurriedly  entered  the  room,  closing  the 
door  behind  him. 

He  was  the  last  person  in  the  world  whom  Hes- 
ter expected  to  see,  and  it  wras  some  moments 
before  she  recovered  from  her  astonishment.  She 
had  always  disliked  him.  She  had,  however,  dur- 
ing her  husband's  lifetime,  never  mentioned  his 
name  when  she  could  avoid  it.  Knowing  that  a 
friendship  of  long  standing  had  existed  between 
the  two  men,  and  Fenton  having  been  guarded  in 
his  conduct  toward  her,  she  had  remained  silent. 

He  stood  within  the  room.  The  silence  became 
embarrassing. 

"  Mr.  Fenton !  "  her  voice  betrayed  some  emo- 
tion. 

"  I  hardly  expected  that  you'd  remember  me," 
he  answered  with  a  smile. 

Hester  had  risen  at  his  entrance,  "  Pardon  me 
if  I  do  not  ask  you  to  be  seated,"  she  said,  "  I  do 
not  receive  company  here."  Her  tone  was  chilly 
in  the  extreme. 

He  smiled  blandly  as  he  answered,  "  I  discov- 
ered only  to-day  where  you  lived.  I  realize  that 
since  poor  Featherly's  death  you've  been  in  a  sort 
of  mourning  as  it  were — " 

The  tone  of  his  voice  was  half  mocking.  Hes- 
ter's blood  tingled  in  her  veins. 

"  Well,"  she  said. 


"I  Am  the  Daughter  of  Henry  Blair "    181 

"  You  see,"  he  continued,  "  St.  Ruth's  Church 
is  built  on  land  leased  from  my  estate." 

"  Your  estate !  "  echoed  Hester.  The  words 
had  escaped  her  involuntarily. 

"  Yes,  I  learned  to-day  that  you  were  organist 
there.  You  see,  Miss  Blair,  I  have  always  taken 
an  interest  in  you.  I — " 

"  Pray  be  brief,"  interrupted  Hester. 

As  he  looked  at  her,  an  insolent  smile  played 
about  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  So  far  as  her 
present  occupation  was  concerned,  she  felt  that 
she  was  completely  at  his  mercy. 

He  had  come  to  Hester's  room  with  the  fixed 
determination  to  ruin  her  in  the  eyes  of  church 
authorities,  if  other  means  failed.  His  wealth 
and  the  influence  of  his  social  position,  made  him 
a  power  in  church  circles,  and  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  position  he  answered  her : 

"  Miss  Blair,  I  have  always  been  interested  in 
your  welfare.  You  should  move  in  a  different 
atmosphere — " 

"  I  am  quite  content,  Mr.  Penton.     I — " 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  interrupted,  "  with  your 
beauty  and  your  exceptional  accomplishments, 
you  should — " 

"  And  is  this  what  you  came  to  say  to  me?  " 
There  was  a  note  of  anger  tinged  with  sorrow  in 
her  voice. 

Nothing  daunted  he  continued : 

"  You  see,  Miss  Blair,  I  have  a  very  fine  estab- 
lishment in  the  city,  I  wish  to  offer  you — " 


1 82  Hester  Blair 

"  To  offer  me — "  she  repeated. 

A  less  confident  man  would  have  been  warned 
by  the  tone  of  her  voice.  Her  eyes  blazed.  She 
stood  erect. 

Fenton  was  slow  to  perceive,  and  slower  still 
to  believe  that  one  struggling  with  the  world  for 
a  bare  subsistence,  would  turn  away  from  the 
life  he  was  about  to  offer  her.  In  his  blind  ego- 
tism, Hester's  self-restraint  encouraged  him.  He 
took  it  for  a  sign  of  her  weakness,  and,  embold- 
ened by  what  he  considered  the  progress  he  was 
making,  answered : 

"  Exactly !  We  begin  to  understand  each 
other.  I  am  rich.  I  can  give  you  every  comfort, 
every  luxury.  I  offer  you  my  protection — " 

"  Just  Heaven !  "  Hester  exclaimed  in  a  voice 
that  was  freighted  with  agony.  "  Have  I  not  suf- 
fered enough?  Is  there  in  store  for  me  further 
humiliation?  Must  I  again  undergo  the  scourge 
to  crush  the  little  life  and  hope  that  yet  remains? 
Just  God !  have  I  sinned  against  Thee,  and  is  this 
my  punishment?  " 

Hester,  while  speaking,  seemed  unconscious  of 
the  presence  of  Fenton.  The  muscles  of  her  face 
twitched  convulsively.  There  was  a  drawn  look 
about  the  mouth  that  told  the  suffering  she  was 
undergoing.  Fenton's  voice  aroused  her. 

"  Miss  Blair—" 

"  Don't,  don't,"  she  cried,  "  in  Heaven's  name, 
don't !  "  there  was  a  threatening  ring  in  her  voice 
that  filled  the  room. 


"I  Am  the  Daughter  of  Henry  Blair"   183 

"  Be  reasonable !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Our  inter- 
ests are  one,  or  should  be.  I  offer  you  every  ad- 
vantage that  money  can  give." 

"  You  offer  me  but  shame,  humiliation !  "  With 
blazing  eyes  she  pointed  to  the  door.  "  Go,  in 
Heaven's  name,  go !  " 

"  And  you  refuse  my  friendship? "  Fenton 
asked  with  a  sneer?  " 

"  Refuse ! "  she  laughed  bitterly,  mockingly. 
"  Would  to  God  I  had  power  to  rend  you  limb 
from  limb.  You  coward." 

"  Very  heroic,"  sneered  Fenton,  "  but  you  were 
not  so  punctilious  as  to  your  virtue,  when  you 
lived  with  Featherly  as  his — "  Fenton  leaned 
forward  and  hissed  the  word  through  his 
clenched  teeth. 

"  Ah !  "  she  retorted  vehemently,  "  Before  all 
the  world  I  say  it  is  a  lie !  " 

"  Do  you  think  the  music  lesson  scheme  de- 
ceived me?  "  He  took  a  step  toward  her  then 
continued :  "  Come,  let  us  not  quarrel,  listen  to 
reason."  He  approached  as  if  to  touch  her.  She 
shrank  from  him. 

"  Don't,"  her  tone  was  one  of  disgust,  "  your 
touch  would  congeal  the  blood  in  my  veins,  and 
turn  my  heart  to  stone.  I  have  nothing  to  re- 
proach myself  with.  I  have  wronged  no  one;  I, 
and  I  alone,  have  been  the  sufferer.  Heaven  in 
good  time  will  prove  the  truth  of  my  words." 

"  When  it  comes  to  a  struggle  for  daily  bread, 
Heaven  lends  but  cold  comfort;  nor  does  it  in- 


184  Hester  Blair 

sure  positions  to  church  organists.  You  will  beg 
for  my  protection,  and  that  before  long." 

A  look  of  conscious  strength  overspread  Hes- 
ter's features.  She  looked  him  straight  in  the 
eyes.  She  was  without  fear,  and  her  voice  that 
had  rung  through  the  room  in  the  first  moments 
of  her  excitement,  was  now  even  and  passionless. 

"  Enough,"  she  said,  "  I  am  not  of  that  order 
of  creature  that  can  be  cowed,  frightened  or 
whipped  into  subjection.  I  have  the  physical 
and  moral  courage  of  an  honest  woman.  Don't 
think  any  persecution  that  your  vileness  may  sug- 
gest would  induce  me  to  look  upon  you  with  any- 
thing but  loathing;  or  that  your  wrealth  could 
turn  me  from  the  path  of  duty.  My  heart  and 
my  life  are  open  to  God  and  the  world.  I  am  the 
daughter  of  Henry  Blair;  strong  in  my  love  of 
that  name,  yet  stronger  in  my  faith  and  trust  in 
Heaven.  God's  justice  will  yet  overtake  me,  and 
find  me  unsullied  in  mind  and  body,  true  to  my 
father's  name  and  to  myself.  Go !  " 

Fenton  walked  leisurely  to  the  door  and  with 
his  hand  on  the  knob  turned  and  looked  disdain- 
fully at  her.  She  stood  erect,  the  tips  of  her  fin- 
gers resting  on  the  table.  Her  eyes  flashed,  other- 
wise she  wras  as  calm  as  if  she  were  addressing 
the  pastor  or  one  of  the  committee  of  the  church. 
Though  a  sympathetic  word  would  have  unnerved 
her,  before  this  ordeal  of  shame  her  courage  was 
supreme.  Where  an  ordinary  woman  would 
have  recourse  to  tears,  Hester's  courage  came  to 


"  I  Am  the  Daughter  of  Henry  Blair  "185 

her  relief ;  and  she  faced  the  man  before  her  with 
a  calmness  that  was  nearly  superhuman.  She 
was  absolutely  without  fear:  only  her  eyes  be- 
traying her  excitement  and  the  determined 
struggle  she  was  making  to  retain  her  self  con- 
trol. Fenton  opened  the  door.  With  a  sneering 
laugh  he  spoke : 

"  Very  pretty,  though  a  little  tragic.  I  trust 
you  don't  affect  that  style  often.  You  can't  ex- 
pect that  sort  of  rot  to  impress  me  to  any  marked 
degree.  I've  seen  that  type  of  heroics  before.  It 
is  what  we  term  the  first  stage.  After  our  next 
meeting  you  will  be  in  a  different  frame  of  mind. 
Adieu,  until  to-night." 

His  mocking  laugh  came  through  the  door 
when  it  closed  behind  him,  and  rang  in  her  ears 
long  after  he  had  gone. 

Hester  remained  standing  behind  the  table. 
Her  face  wore  a  drawn  expression.  She  appeared 
years  older  than  she  had  looked  an  hour  previous. 

"  O,  the  shame !  "  she  spoke  almost  inaudibly, 
"  the  shame,  the  shame !  Am  I  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world  a  thing,  a  creature?  Will  all  men  look  on 
me  as  a  chattel;  all  pure  women  pass  me  with 
averted  heads,  fearing  that  my  presence  will  con- 
taminate them?  Must  I  go  through  life  pointed 
at  as  an  outcast?  My  sister — " 

Tears  shone  in  her  eyes  as  she  thought  of 
Ethel.  She  clasped  her  hands  together,  and  with 
an  effort  controlled  her  emotions.  The  agony  of 
a  lifetime  was  concentrated  into  the  few  moments 


1 86  Hester  Blair 

that  she  stood  thus.     She  spoke  again  in  a  half 
whisper : 

"  Until  to-night.  What  does  he  mean?  He  is 
connected  with  the  church.  Heaven  doesn't  in- 
sure positions  to  church  organists.  Must  I  again 
have  my  heart  wrung?  Ah !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a 
sorrowful  voice,  "  my  fa-tal  promise !  " 

She  crossed  the  room  and  took  Cary's  portrait 
in  her  hand. 

"  God  grant  that  you  may  be  near  me." 

She  spoke  the  words  with  the  solemnity  of  a 
prayer;  then  replacing  the  portrait  in  its  place, 
glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  mantel.  With  nerv- 
ous energy  she  put  on  her  cloak  and  hat  and 
went  out. 

Hester's  footsteps  were  echoing  in  the  hallway, 
when  the  door  leading  to  the  rear  entrance  was 
cautiously  opened,  and  Miss  Healy's  head  was 
thrust  into  the  aperture.  Her  shoulders  and  the 
upper  part  of  her  body  followed,  and  she  peered 
into  the  room.  Her  face  was  a  study.  Rage  and 
chagrin  were  depicted  on  her  generously  endowed 
features.  Her  eyes,  feet  and  hands  danced  in 
unison  as  she  swung  herself  into  the  room.  It 
was  painfully  evident  that  she  was  not  pleased, — 
that  she  was,  in  fact,  in  a  towering  passion.  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  state,  that  it  was  Miss 
Healy's  interest  in  Hester's  affairs  that  prompted 
her  to  remain  outside  the  door  of  the  rear  en- 
trance, with  her  ear  in  close  proximity  to  the 


"  I  Am  the  Daughter  of  Henry  Blair  "  187 

key-hole,  during  Hester's  interview  with  Fenton. 
It  was  a  favorite  occupation  of  hers  when  Hester 
had  visitors.  She  soothed  her  conscience  with 
the  argument  that  the  safety  of  her  lodgers  was 
of  paramount  importance,  necessitating  a  closer 
intimacy  with  their  concerns  than  could  be 
gleaned  from  her  own  quarters  on  the  first  floor. 
Perhaps  she  was  right.  Be  that  as  it  may,  she 
danced  several  intricate  steps  in  the  center  of  the 
room,  before  her  power  of  speech,  which,  seem- 
ingly, had  been  paralyzed  by  her  wrath,  returned. 
She  made  several  attempts  to  articulate  before 
her  voice  gladdened  her  ears,  and  set  the  modest 
pieces  of  china  on  the  side-board  jingling.  The 
roar  that  followed  could  be  compared  to  no 
known  human  sound. 

After  a  series  of  "  Ohs,"  ejaculated  in  every 
tone  of  the  chromatic  scale  of  the  middle  register, 
with  her  hands  clenched  in  the  air,  she  found 
words  to  ease  her  consuming  wrath. 

"  If  I  hed  thot  man  now,  I'd  strangle  him !  An' 
ter  think  thet  I  took  the  black-hearted  divil's 
money ! " 

She  threw  the  money  Fenton  gave  her  on  the 
floor,  and  danced  upon  it  long  and  frantically. 
Gasping  for  breath,  she  continued :  "  O,  he'll 
cum  agin ;  an'  I'll  mate  'im  as  swate  as  a  glass  o' 
nictar;  an'  when  I  hev  'im  half  way  up  thim 
three  flights  uv  stairs,  Oh!  "  she  emphasized  her 
ejaculation  with  a  scuffle  of  her  feet — "  I'll  kick 


1 88  Hester  Blair 

>im  into  the  street!  I'll  walk  on  'im,  an'  I'll 
jump  on  'im!  Oh,  oh,  oh!  The  divil  fly  away 
wid  'im !  "  And  with  this  final  and  terrible  im- 
precation she  fled  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

MRS.    ST.    JUST    AND    MRS.    HOUSEMAN    EXCHANGE 
CONFIDENCES 

They  cooed  and  smiled,  as  the  time  they  whiled, 

In  blasting  some  fair  name. 
Foul  pomp!    foul  pride!     The  angels  sighed, 

And  Charity  wept  for  shame. 

THE  shades  of  a  brilliantly  clear  evening  were 
closing  in  upon  the  city,  and  night,  usurp- 
ing the  last,  lingering  gleams  in  the  west- 
ern sky,  held  sway;  disputed  only  by  the  stars, 
that  struggled  one  by  one,  to  replace  the  beauty 
of  the  dying  glow  of  a  golden  sunset. 

The  doors  of  St.  Buth's  church  were  thrown 
wide  open,  and  the  tones  of  the  organ,  in  waves 
of  harmony,  greeted  the  congregation  as  they 
entered. 

The  services  were  in  progress  some  minutes, 
when  two  ladies  entered  the  antechamber  that 
connected  the  church  edifice  with  the  adjoining 
parsonage.  This  room  was  used  as  a  committee- 
room  and  office,  where  the  business  of  the  church 
was  transacted.  Double  doors  opened  from  the 
antechamber  to  the  main  edifice,  and  commanded, 
when  open,  a  full  view  of  the  church  interior. 

Mrs.  St.  Just,  the  elder  of  the  two  was  fash- 
189 


190  Hester  Blair 

ionably  dressed.  She  was  a  woman  of  doubtful 
age,  of  good  figure,  and  haughty  carriage.  Her 
features  wore  an  expression  of  settled  calm.  Her 
eyes  were  of  a  cold  steel  blue,  and  her  voice  was 
chilling  in  its  metallic  evenness.  She  seemed  de- 
void of  feeling  or  passion,  and  whether  natural 
or  affected,  her  manner  was  that  of  a  woman  of 
the  world  who  found  little  in  it  to  interest  her. 
Her  companion,  Mrs.  Houseman,  though  younger, 
was  not  so  well  preserved,  and  her  unnatural 
color  added  nothing  to  her  severely  plain  fea- 
tures. She  was  gowned  with  an  eye  to  effect ;  and 
her  appearance  indicated  the  fashionable  woman, 
who,  at  some  period  of  her  life,  had  enjoyed  the 
world  to  its  utmost. 

Mrs.  St.  Just  opened  the  door  a  few  inches  and 
peered  into  the  church.  A  flood  of  music  filled 
the  room,  dying  to  an  echo  as  she  closed  the 
door. 

"  She  plays  divinely,"  she  said,  turning  to  her 
companion,  "  pity  we  must  lose  her." 

"  True,"  replied  Mrs.  Houseman,  "  but  the 
morals  of  the  congregation  must  not  be  endan- 
gered. 'Tis  ever  thus,"  she  continued  with  a 
sigh,  "  get  some  one  who  is  entirely  satisfactory7 
and — presto!  you  discover  that  a  leaf  in  the 
book  of  their  past  life  has  been  soiled." 

Mrs.  St.  Just  peered  again  into  the  church. 
Mrs.  Houseman  looked  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  fright  as  Mrs.  Thorn- 
croft  in  that  bonnet?  " 


Mrs.  St.  Just  and  Mrs.  Houseman      191 

"  Horrible,"  whispered  her  companion,  "  such 
shocking  bad  taste.  She  must  be  color  blind !  " 

"  Who  is  that  with  the  Hadleys?  " 

"  Don't  know.     Stunning,  isn't  he?  " 

"  Distinguished  looking,  to  say  the  least." 

"  Will  you  look  at  the  fit  of  that  Brownly  girl's 
dress.  I  do  believe  she  made  it  herself." 

"  Just  what  I  said  when  I  first  saw  it,"  replied 
the  younger  woman,  "  She  says  it's  '  a  Worth/ 
She  brought  it  with  her  from  Europe  last  sum- 
mer." 

"  Horrors !  It  looks  as  if  it  were  thrown  at 
her." 

Their  eyes  traversed  the  length  of  the  church 
interior. 

"  There  come  the  Sutherlys  down  the  cen- 
ter aisle,"  murmured  Mrs.  St.  Just  sweetly, 
"  pity  someone  doesn't  teach  the  girls  how  to 
walk." 

"  How  should  they  know? "  replied  Mrs. 
Houseman  in  an  undertone,  "  It  seems  only  yes- 
terday that  their  father  was  herding  cattle  out 
west  somewhere ;  as  for  their  mother — " 

"  O ! "  exclaimed  her  companion  in  a  tone  of 
disgust,  "  she's  simply  impossible !  " 

A  pause  ensued.  The  voice  of  the  pastor  was 
exhorting  his  listeners  to  exercise  true  Christian 
charity.  Mrs.  St.  Just  closed  the  door  abruptly. 

"  I  detest  that  young  Wakefield  girl.  She  has 
the  air  of  a  princess." 

"You  know  what  they  say?"  demanded  her 


192  Hester  Blair 

companion  with  the  manner  of  one  who  has  a 
choice  morsel  of  news  to  reveal. 

"  No !  "  queried  Mrs.  St.  Just  eagerly; 

Mrs.  Houseman  walked  forward  and  whis- 
pered in  her  ear,  then  stepping  back  a  few  paces, 
waited  for  the  expression  of  surprise  that  she 
knew  would  follow. 

"  With  Col.  Houghton !  Clandestinely !  Father 
doesn't  know  it?  " 

Mrs.  Houseman  purred  softly  and  shook  her 
head.  This  was  to  her  a  moment  of  exquisite 
pleasure.  To  think  that  she  should  be  the  first 
to  inform  Mrs.  St.  Just,  who  was  accredited  with 
knowing  more  of  the  secrets  of  the  members  of 
the  congregation,  than  was  good  for  any  one  per- 
son. 

They  smiled  sweetly.    Mrs.  St.  Just  spoke: 

"  Em !  I  believed  there  was  something  back 
of  that  queenly  manner.  How  long  has  this  affair 
been  going  on?  " 

"  O,  for  ever  so  long !  Everyone  is  talking 
about  it." 

"  When  I  meet  her  again,  I'll  give  her  the  cut 
direct." 

"  Don't  think  of  such  a  thing !  They  are  im- 
mensely wealthy.  Aren't  you  worldly  enough  to 
know  that  wealth  has  license?  " 

"  True.  One  has  no  right  to  look  into  social 
windows  that  have  golden  shutters." 

A  pause.    Then: 

"  Mr.  Fenton  is  late." 


Mrs.  St.  Just  and  Mrs.  Houseman      193 

"  He  may  be  waiting  in  the  parsonage." 

"  No,"  the  other  rejoined,  "  he  was  to  come 
here  through  the  parsonage." 

Mrs.  St.  Just  opened  the  door  cautiously,  then 
turned  to  her  companion. 

"  What  a  fright  Mrs.  Ide  is  getting  to  be.  She 
looks  fully  fifty." 

"  She  says  she's  thirty-six,"  replied  Mrs.  House- 
man with  a  suppressed  giggle. 

"  Helen,  you'll  make  me  laugh  outright.  I'm 
forty-six,  and  she  was  a  young  lady  when  I  was 
in  swaddling  clothes." 

She  again  turned  to  the  door.  Her  companion 
threw  her  hands  into  the  air,  and  with  a  look  of 
resignation,  murmured  under  her  breath :  "  For- 
ty-six !  " 

Mrs.  St.  Just  turned  to  her  companion. 

"  Helen,  don't  you  think  Mr.  Fenton  is  mani- 
festing an  extraordinary  interest  in  church  mat- 
ters, particularly " 

"  Well  ?  "  queried  Mrs.  Houseman. 

"  In  this  matter  of  Miss  Blair.  You  don't  sup- 
pose  "  began  her  companion. 

"  Dear  me,  I  don't  know.  You  remember  that 
affair  of  his  with  Mrs. " 

"  Sh !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Houseman,  "  He  has 
returned  to  the  path  of  duty.  Besides,  we  were 
much  in  his  company  at  one  time;  and  it  would 
hardly  do  for  us  to  criticize " 

"  You  don't  believe " 

"  How  unsophisticated  you  are.    I  never  ei- 


194  Hester  Blair 

ercise  my  doubting  faculties  when  an  influential 
member  of  the  church  is  concerned." 

"  Strange  that  he  doesn't  come." 

"  Don't  worry,  dear,  his  interest  is  too  marked 
to  delay  him  long." 

The  door  leading  to  the  parsonage  opened  and 
Fenton  entered.  Mrs.  St.  Just  advanced  to  meet 
him. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Fenton !  We  almost  despaired. 
We  were  discussing  you  as  you  entered." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  and " 

"  And  rejoicing,"  cooed  Mrs.  Houseman,  "  in 
the  active  interest  you  take  in  church  matters  of 
late." 

"  I  but  follow  your  very  good  example,"  he 
said. 

"  How  kind  of  you  to  say  so,"  the  ladies  re- 
joined. 

Fenton  looked  from  one  to  the  other  and 
smiled.  He  had  known  them  for  more  years  than 
they  would  care  to  acknowledge ;  and,  as  he  noted 
their  expression  of  demure,  studied  calm,  and  con- 
trasted it  with  certain  episodes  in  their  lives,  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  he  could  restrain  himself 
from  giving  way  to  an  outburst  of  mirth.  While 
he  felt  secure  in  his  position,  knowing  that  both 
the  ladies,  who  had  entire  charge  of  the  music  of 
the  church,  would  do  his  bidding,  he  did  not  wish 
to  needlessly  offend  them.  It  was  to  them  that 
Hester  owed  her  position ;  and  it  must  be  through 
them  that  she  should  lose  it.  But  their  air  of 


Mrs.  St.  Just  and  Mrs.  Houseman      195 

meekness  was  too  much  for  him  and  with  ill-con- 
cealed pleasure  at  their  discomfiture,  he  turned 
to  Mrs.  St.  Just. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  "  the  memories  of  old 
times  obtrude  themselves.  The  remembrance  of 
those  little  suppers  at  Sherry's " 

"  Please,  please  don't !  "  Mrs.  St.  Just's  tone 
was  indignant.  Her  companion  suppressed  a 
laugh. 

"  Or  that  little  affair  at  Tuxedo." 

Mrs.  Houseman  blinked  at  him  knowingly; 
then  in  a  shocked  voice :  "  My  dear  Mr.  Fen  ton !  " 

"  That  winter  in  the  south  of  France,"  ven- 
tured Fenton. 

"  O  dear  me,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  St.  Just,  "  that 
was  delightful.  Ah,  the  divine  climate,  the  beau- 
tiful Mediterranean  stretching  out  before  us, 
rivaled  only  by  the  azure  sky — Nice  with  its 
marble  palaces  and  Sunday  services,  so  grand, 

so — so "  words  failed,  and  a  sigh,  eloquent 

in  its  reminiscent  regretfulness,  filled  the  cham- 
ber. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Fenton  to  this  wave  of  feel- 
ing, "  and  Monte  Carlo !  and  the  little  games  of 
roulette  we  played !  " 

The  heads  and  shoulders  of  both  ladies  were 
thrown  back  in  dignified  protestation. 

"  Please  don't  speak  of  that !  "  they  exclaimed. 
In  a  lapse  of  caution,  Mrs.  Houseman  continued : 

"  And  that  scandalous  affair  of  Mrs.  Von  Etty ! 
Cheating!" 


196  Hester  Blair 

"  Sh !  "  expostulated  Mrs.  St.  Just,  holding  her 
head  very  high  and  folding  her  hands,  "  we  were 
younger  then." 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Fenton,  "  and  much  too  giddy 
for  pillars  of  the  church." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Fenton,  you  forget,"  said  Mrs. 
St.  Just.  Her  tone  betrayed  virtuous  indigna- 
tion. 

"  O  no,"  rejoined  Fenton,  "  not  at  all.  I  re- 
member a  little  dinner  party  on  board  my  yacht 
that  was  quite  upset,  because  one  of  the  fair 
guests  monopolized  a  certain  lady's  husband." 

Mrs.  St.  Just  forgot  her  studied  calm,  her  high- 
standing  in  church  circles,  and  the  voice  in  which 
she  answered  was  refreshingly  natural. 

"  She  was  a  little  beast!   I  told  her " 

"  Quite  so,"  Fenton  blandly  interrupted,  "  and 
that  little  affair  at  Newport.  The  flowers  were 
misdirected,  and  the  blundering  messenger  de- 
livered them  to  the  donor's  wife  by  mistake. 
There  was  a  note  hidden  among  the  forget-me- 
nots." 

Mrs.  Houseman  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile. 
Mrs.  St.  Just  had  been  walking  up  and  down  the 
room,  lashing  herself  into  a  passion.  As  Fenton 
finished,  she  paused  in  her  walk  and  faced  him. 
Her  eyes  flashed  the  scorn  she  could  not  utter. 

A  sigh  of  commiseration  from  the  other  mem- 
ber of  the  committee  developed  into  a  suppressed 
giggle.  She  was  hearing  what  she  had  never 
dared  to  say,  and  it  was  doubly  sweet  to  her  com- 


Mrs.  St.  Just  and  Mrs.  Houseman     197 

ing  from  Fenton.  Mrs.  St.  Just  broke  in  upon 
her  enjoyment  with  : 

"  Don't  refer  to  that,  Mr.  Fenton,  if — you — 
please.  I  tore  that  note  into  a  thousand  pieces 
before  the  very  eyes " 

"  Of  course  you  did,"  interrupted  Fenton, 
"  you  were  quite  right.  And  the  tenor  of  the 
opera  who  called  so  often  that  the  husband " 

"  Mr.  Fenton,  I  beg  you  to  remember " 

Fenton  laughed,  then : 

"  I  do  remember.  But  that  was  before  we  saw 
the  folly  of  our  ways  and  became  active  church 
members." 

Mrs.  St.  Just  was  incensed.  Not  only  was  She 
annoyed  that  she  had  given  way  to  her  temper, 
but,  up  to  this  time,  some  of  the  incidents  re- 
ferred to  by  Fenton  were  unknown  to  her  friend, 
Mrs.  Houseman.  She  felt  that  in  losing  her  self- 
control,  she  had,  to  a  degree,  sacrificed  her 
dignity.  She  could  no  longer  pose  as  the  im- 
perturbable woman  of  the  world.  Her  wonted 
calm  had  disappeared  in  the  riot  of  long  for- 
gotten memories. 

To  Fenton's  last  remark  she  answered  with  a 
vain  attempt  at  her  former  studied  composure, 
but  there  was  a  sting  both  in  voice  and  words. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Fenton,  it's  so  good  of  you  to 
interest  yourself  in  this  unfortunate  affair  of  the 
organist." 

"  So  good  of  you,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Houseman 
with  a  sweet  smile.  While  she  keenly  relished 


198  Hester  Blair 

the  discomfiture  of  her  friend,  she  was  ready  to 
join  forces  with  her.  Mrs.  St.  Just's  allusion  to 
Hester,  gave  her  the  key  note  of  what  was  to 
come,  and  she  entered  into  the  spirit  of  retalia- 
tion that  her  companion  evinced,  with  a  zest 
worthy  of  a  better,  if  not  a  more  womanly  cause. 

Fenton  looked  sharply  at  one  and  then  the 
other  of  the  ladies.  He  knew  the  spirit  that 
prompted  their  allusions  to  Hester ;  still  his  self- 
confidence  did  not  waver.  He  had  known  them 
many  years;  and  he  felt  assured  of  their  assist- 
ance, if  not  of  their  sympathy. 

"  Have  you  known  her  long?  "  asked  Mrs.  St. 
Just. 

"  Since  the  unfortunate  affair  with  Feath- 
erly,"  he  answered. 

"  Quite  natural  that  you  should  take  an  in- 
terest in  her  spiritual  welfare,"  said  Mrs.  St. 
Just  languidly. 

"  Quite,"  echoed  Mrs.  Houseman. 

"  A  Christian  interest  only,"  Fenton  replied 
assuringly. 

"  A  beautiful  example  of  true  moral  philan- 
thropy, which  we  shall  try  to  emulate,"  said  Mrs. 
St.  Just, 

"  Ladies,"  Fenton's  voice  was  conciliatory,  "  I 
could  not  forbear  acquainting  you  with  her  true 
life.  Your  noble  example  will " 

"Ah,  you  exaggerate!"  they  raised  their 
daintily  gloved  hands  in  expostulation,  "  yet  we 
hope  to  redeem  her." 


Mrs.  St.  Just  and  Mrs.  Houseman      199 

"  Well  I  know  I  can  trust  you  for  old  time 
sake,"  rejoined  Penton.  He  emphasized  the  last 
three  words,  and  the  look  he  bestowed  on  his 
hearers  was  eloquent  in  its  self-assurance. 

"  Please  do  not  refer  to  that  period  when  we 
did  not  take  life  so  seriously  as  we  do  now,"  Mrs. 
Houseman  ventured. 

"  Em,  yes,"  there  was  a  touch  of  sarcasm  in 
his  tone,  "  we  all  reach  that  serious  point  in  time. 
With  the  ladies,  it  begins  when  their  dance  order 
is  not  filled.  Then  their  mirror — the  hateful  mir- 
ror— shows  the  first  wrinkle.  Tears!  Heart- 
aches !  And  then —  the  consoling  influence  of  re- 
ligion. Ah " 

"  Hush !  "  Mrs.  St.  Just  said  softly,  "  the  serv- 
ices are  finished." 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Dean  entered  by  the  side  door, 
and,  approaching  Fenton,  held  out  his  hand. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Fenton,  I  trust  you  are  mis- 
taken in  this  matter  of  the  organist." 

"  Unfortunately,  I  am  not,"  replied  Fenton. 

"  I  cannot,"  replied  the  minister,  "  bring  my- 
self to  believe  anything  but  good  of  Miss  Blair. 
In  my  years  of  labor  I  have  met  many  people,  and 
have  mingled  with  all  classes ;  seldom  have  I  been 
mistaken,  and  never  have  I  encountered  in  any 
walk  of  life,  one  in  whom  I  have  more  confidence 
than  in  the  lady  in  question. 

"  My  dear  Dr.  Dean,"  answered  Mrs.  St.  Just, 
"  you  are  guided  in  this  matter  by  your  heart  and 
not  by  your  reason.  We  all  feel  keenly  for  Miss 


200  Hester  Blair 

Blair;  but  Mr.  Fenton's  knowledge  of  her  past 
life,  and  the  evidence  in  his  possession  that  she 
still  lives  improperly,  leaves  us  no  other  alterna- 
tive than  to  dispense  with  her  services." 

"  It  pains  me  to  hear  of  your  decision,"  re- 
plied the  minister.  "  As  you  have  entire  control 
of  the  matter,  you  will,  I  trust,  nay  I  beg  of  you, 
give  her  a  hearing." 

"  Most  certainly,"  replied  Mrs.  St.  Just. 

Mrs.  Houseman  did  not  enter  into  the  discus- 
sion. She  viewed  the  proceeding  with  ill-con- 
cealed disapproval.  Under  her  artificial,  worldly 
coating,  she  was  good  at  heart;  and  she  did  not; 
enter  into  Fenton's  new  found  moral  intensity 
with  any  degree  of  warmth.  Moreover,  she  knew 
Fenton,  and  she  mistrusted  his  motives.  She  was, 
in  a  sense,  under  the  domination  of  Mrs.  St.  Just, 
and  this,  with  the  fear  of  Fenton,  silenced  the 
promptings  of  her  naturally  honest,  sympathetic 
nature,  and  she  remained  silent. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Dean  turned  to  Fenton,  "  You 
have  evidence?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Fenton,  "  I  not  only  know 
of  her  improper  life  with  the  late  Mr.  Featherly, 
but  that  she  receives  her  former  lover,  whom 
she  threw  over  to  live  with  Mr.  Featherly.  You 
can  question  her,  she  cannot  deny  it." 

The  congregation  had  departed.  The  organ 
playing  had  ceased.  Mrs.  St.  Just  turned  to  the 
minister,  "  Come,"  she  said,  "  we  will  speak  to 
her  as  she  comes  down." 


Mrs.  St.  Just  and  Mrs.  Houseman     201 

The  minister  motioned  them  toward  the  door 
through  which  he  had  entered.  It  opened  into 
the  church  under  the  gallery  opposite  the  organ 
loft. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN   THE  CHURCH.      "  I  AM   THE   COUNTRY   LOVER." 

Fair  Justice  paused  and  shuddering  turned  away. 

"  I  travel  by  circuitous  route,"  she  quoth: 
"  God's  vengeance  waits,  nor  grows  less  by  delay." 

Fate  smDing  said:    "I'll  answer  for  us  both." 

HESTER  slowly  descended  the  stairs.  A  dim 
flame  burned  in  the  large  chandelier;  the 
huge  pillars  cast  ghost-like  shadows ;  and 
the  subdued  light  added  an  air  of  solemn  gran- 
deur to  the  deserted  church.  Hester  did  not  see 
the  minister  and  his  companions,  for  the  gallery 
hid  them  from  view.  As  she  was  about  to  turn 
up  the  center  aisle,  they  walked  into  the  light. 

"  Miss  Blair,"  said  Mrs.  St.  Just  in  a  tone  that 
was  devoid  of  feeling,  "  representing  the  com- 
mittee who  are  entrusted  with  the  duty  of  pro- 
viding music  for  the  church,  I  am  compelled  to 
say  that  we  shall  no  longer  require  your  serv- 
ices." 

The  suddenness  of  the  announcement  delivered 
in  this  abrupt  manner  was  a  shock  to  Hester,  and 
she  stood  motionless  for  some  moments  unable 
to  reply.  As  she  did  not  answer  Mrs.  St.  Just 
continued : 

"  Information  has  reached  us  that  your  char- 
acter  " 


In  the  Church  203 

The  words  aroused  Hester  and  she  echoed,  "  My 
character ! " 

"  Is  such,  I  grieve  to  say,  as  to  warrant  the 
church  in  dispensing  with  your  services." 

"  My  character !  Information !  "  repeated  Hes- 
ter. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  St.  Just  coldly,  "  evi- 
dence has  been  given  us  that  is  conclusive.  It 
is  better  that  your  engagement  as  organist  ter- 
minate without  going  into " 

The  full  force  of  this  statement  struck  home 
to  Hester  with  telling  effect.  Realizing  the  full 
meaning  of  the  charge,  with  flashing  eyes,  hold- 
ing herself  erect,  she  stepped  forward  a  few 
paces.  Her  voice,  although  not  pitched  above 
the  ordinary  key,  rang  through  the  church  in 
tones  of  bell-like  clearness. 

"  Do  you  think  me  so  utterly  lost  to  what  is 
due  my  self-respect  that  I  will  calmly  submit  to 
this  injustice?  Do  you  expect  me  to  surrender 
my  good  name  without  demanding  the  evidence 
of  which  you  speak :  of  being  brought  face  to  face 
with  my  accuser?  This  is  my  right,  and  I  demand 
it  as  my  right." 

The  beauty  of  her  face  and  figure  stood  out  in 
dim  relief  against  the  background  of  towering 
pillars  and  rows  of  pews,  that  were  lost  in  dark- 
ness at  the  far  end  of  the  church.  She  stood  be- 
fore her  accusers  proudly  erect,  with  nothing  in 
her  bearing  to  indicate  that  she  was  the  accused. 
They  were  impressed  by  her  calm,  dignified  man- 


204  Hester  Blair 

ner;  and  the  truth  carrying  tones  of  her  voice 
disconcerted  them. 

The  ladies,  at  least,  had  expected  tears,  en- 
treaties, and  petition  for  clemency;  and  Hester's 
bearing  and  the  confident  ring  in  her  voice,  was 
as  disappointing  as  it  was  unexpected. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Dean  regarded  Hester  with  the 
same  courteous,  respectful  interest  that  he  had 
always  shown  her.  He  did  not  for  an  instant 
doubt  her ;  but  he  also  realized  that  it  was  not  for 
him  to  interfere. 

Hester  felt  that  she  still  retained  the  con- 
fidence of  the  pastor,  and  after  waiting  a  moment 
for  Mrs.  St.  Just  to  reply,  she  turned  to  him. 

"  Am  I  to  understand,  sir,"  she  asked,  "  that 
my  dismissal  meets  with  your  approval?  " 

"  It  does  not,"  he  quietly  answered. 

"  Then,"  said  Hester,  "  it  is  to  the  committee 
I  must  look  for  vindication,  or  the  proof  that  they 
claim  to  possess." 

Mrs.  St.  Just,  after  the  minister's  assurance, 
realized  that  she  was  losing  ground.  She  wTas 
not  prepared  to  meet  the  minister's  moral  sup- 
port which  he  extended  to  Hester;  and  she  well 
knew  that  she  could  expect  but  little  help  from 
Mrs.  Houseman,  whose  executive  ability  was  in 
keeping  with  her  weak,  vacillating  nature. 

Fenton  had  remained  in  the  shadow  of  the  gal- 
lery. It  was  his  desire  to  procure  Hester's  dis- 
charge without  his  personal  interference.  He 


"It  is  a  lie  !  " 


In  the  Church  205 

waited  with  some  degree  of  temerity  for  Mrs.  St. 
Just  to  reply. 

She  cast  a  withering  look  at  Hester.  She  was 
conscious  that  Hester's  tone  and  manner  were 
far  more  convincing  than  the  impression  she  had 
so  far  been  able  to  make,  at  least,  on  one  of  her 
listeners — the  Rev.  Dr.  Dean.  The  slight  interest 
she  felt  in  the  truth  or  falsity  of  the  charge,  was 
over-shadowed  by  her  chagrin  at  being  out- 
matched. In  a  cold,  cutting  voice,  she  addressed 
Hester. 

"  I  wished  to  spare  you.  Know  then,  that  we 
are  acquainted  with  your  past  relations  with  the 
late  Mr.  Featherly " 

A  cry  of  agony  escaped  Hester.  She  staggered 
back  a  few  paces  and  grasped  the  railing  of  the 
gallery  stairs  for  support.  Her  weakness  was 
but  momentary.  Her  voice  rang  through  the 
church  as  she  answered: 

"  It  is  a  lie !  " 

Mrs.  St.  Just  glanced  at  her  with  pitying 
scorn,  and  throwing  up  her  gloved  hands  in  a 
despairing  gesture,  turned  to  Mrs.  Houseman. 

"  We  had  hoped  for  contrition " 

"You  had  hoped  for  contrition?"  demanded 
Hester.  "  For  what?  I  have  done  no  wrong. 
Would  you  have  me  acknowledge  guilt  where 
none  exists?  " 

Hester  had  regained  her  self  composure,  and 
stood  before  them  calm  and  self-contained.  The 


206  Hester    Blair 

pallor  of  her  face  was  intensified  by  the  dim  light, 
but  no  other  outward  sign  betrayed  her  feelings. 
She  took  a  step  toward  the  ladies. 

"  Consider  madam,  you  convict  me  unheard. 
You  have  asked  me  for  no  explanation ;  you  have 
given  me  no  opportunity  to  make  one.  Does  not 
the  faith  that  you  profess,  prompt  you  to  exer- 
cise the  Christian  principles  that  you  are 
taught?"  Turning  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dean,  she 
asked  him :  "  Am  I  to  be  condemned  unheard?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered  firmly,  "  not  with  my  con- 
sent" 

"  My  dear  sir,"  began  Mrs.  St.  Just,  addressing 
the  minister,  "  you  are  too  lenient  by  far."  She 
turned  almost  fiercely  on  Hester. 

"  You  will  not  deny  that  you  lived  with  Mr. 
Featherly?  " 

"  I  deny  nothing,"  answered  Hester  coldly. 

"  Would  you  have  us  believe " 

"  Believe  what  you  will " 

"  And  you  will  not  answer?  "  demanded  Mrs. 
St.  Just. 

"  No,"  came  the  reply  in  a  tone  that  reverber- 
ated through  the  church,  and  was  lost  in  the 
organ  loft  above  in  a  faint  echo. 

Mrs.  St.  Just  was  for  the  second  time  forgetting 
her  mask  of  calmness.  Her  voice  was  raised  to 
a  shrill  pitch,  and  with  savage  intensity  she 
asked: 

"  You  were  not  his  wife?  " 

"  I  will  not  answer,"  came  the  calm  reply. 


In  the  Church  207 

"  Then,"  replied  Mrs.  St.  Just  in  passionate 
tones,  "  the  charge  is  true." 

"  My  child,"  spoke  the  minister,  there  was  a 
tone  of  tenderness  in  his  voice,  "  at  least  say  your 
relations  with  Mr.  Featherly  were  without  sin." 

The  answer  came  slowly  and  solemnly,  each 
word  distinct,  and  uttered  in  clear,  musical  tones, 
devoid  of  passion,  that  carried  conviction  to  the 
heart  of  the  questioner. 

"  Before  God,  I  swear  it!  " 

Her  voice  died  in  a  musical  cadence  that 
re-echoed  through  the  vast  edifice. 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  the  minister  quietly. 

"  Sir !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  St.  Just  excitedly, 
"  you  are  being  imposed  upon.  She  is  incor- 
rigible ! " 

Fenton  was  beginning  to  be  alarmed.  He 
noted  the  effect  of  Hester's  denial  upon  the  min- 
ister, and  realized  that  in  him  she  had  a  strong 
ally  and  staunch  friend.  Of  the  loss  of  her  posi- 
tion he  felt  assured,  but  this  alone  would  not 
satisfy  him,  nor  further,  in  any  marked  degree, 
his  plans.  He  was  determined  that  she  should 
be  disgraced,  driven  forth  with  the  brand  of 
shame  upon  her  that  would  preclude  the  possi- 
bility of  her  obtaining  another  position.  He  must 
drag  her  down,  humble  her,  and  destroy  any 
future  hope  of  her  pursuing  her  profession  as  a 
means  of  livelihood.  With  these  thoughts  in  his 
mind,  he  stepped  from  the  shadow  of  the  gallery 
and  spoke: 


208  Hester    Blair 

"  Sir,  she  can  deceive  you,  but  not  the  ladies." 

"  You !  "  cried  Hester,  recoiling  from  him.  She 
turned  to  the  minister  and  pointed  at  Fenton. 
"  No  need  to  name  my  accuser.  He  is  there !  Not 
satisfied  with  offering  me  a  life  of  shame,  he  must 
strike  at  me  again." 

Fenton  laughed  sneeringly. 

Hester's  tone  and  the  intensity  of  her  feelings 
thrilled  her  listeners. 

"  And  even  here,"  she  cried,  "  here  under  the 
shadow  of  the  altar  of  Almighty  God,  here !  while 
his  teachings  still  echo  in  the  stillness,  with  a 
relentlessness  born  of  lust,  and  a  daring  fostered 
by  the  souls  he  has  destroyed,  even  here,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  cross,  he  dares  a  just  Heaven 
that  but  pauses  ere  it  deals  him  retribution." 

"  This  is  blasphemous,"  cried  Mrs.  St.  Just. 

"  It  is  true,"  answered  Hester  in  a  calm  tone. 
"  Only  to-day  he  came  to  my  room  with  a  pro- 
posal that  no  .honest  woman  listens  to  but  with 
shame." 

Hester's  denunciation  made  a  marked  impres- 
sion on  the  minister.  While  she  was  hurling  the 
charges,  Fenton  felt  the  doubt  and  mistrust  in 
the  minister's  glance.  He  made  an  attempt  to 
appear  self-possessed ;  but  he  was  conscious  that 
his  efforts  were  unsuccessful. 

"  They'll  believe  that,"  he  said  with  a  sneering 
smile,  addressing  Hester. 

"Again,  I  say  it  is  true!"  she  answered  in 
ringing  tones. 


In  the  Church  209 

"  Enough !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  St.  Just,  "  if  the 
affair  with  the  late  Mr.  Featherly  were  not  suffi- 
cient to  render  you  unfit  for  the  position  you 
hold,  we  know  that  you  receive  in  your  rooms — " 

"  The  country  lover ! "  interjected  Fenton 
sneeringly,  "  he  hasn't  the  wealth  of  my  late 
friend  Featherly,  but " 

He  got  no  farther: — John  Gary  stood  before 
him.  John  had  remained  after  the  services  wait- 
ing for  Hester.  He  had  been  sitting  at  the  far 
end  of  the  church,  and  had  been  a  silent  listener 
to  all  that  had  taken  place.  When  reference  had 
been  made  to  his  visits  to  Hester,  unobserved, 
he  had  walked  down  the  aisle  of  the  church,  and 
now  stood  with  folded  arms  before  the  astonished 
group. 

Dr.  Dean  knew  John  and  held  him  in  high  re- 
gard. Being  the  only  one  who  retained  his  com- 
posure, the  minister  turned  to  John : 

"  Mr.  Gary,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  I  am  the  country  lover  referred  to,"  said 
John.  "  I  wish  to  speak  for  myself."  He  turned 
to  Fenton.  "  But  first  a  word  with  you,  sir.  You 
denied  that  you  were  at  Miss  Blair's  rooms  to- 
day." 

"  I  did,"  answered  Fenton  suavely. 

"  Where  is  your  other  glove?  "  demanded  John, 
pointing  to  the  glove  which  Fenton  held  in  his 
hand. 

"  I  dropped  it,  probably,  in  the  parsonage  as 
I  came  in,"  answered  Fenton. 


2io  Hester    Blair 

"  You  know  that  to  be  false."  Taking  from 
his  pocket  the  glove  that  he  had  found  in  Hester's 
room,  he  continued :  "  I  found  your  glove  to- 
day in  Miss  Blair's  room,  where  you  dropped  it. 
There  it  is." 

John  threw  the  glove  at  Fenton's  feet,  and  with 
folded  arms,  calmly  faced  him.  Fenton  was  non- 
plussed, but  his  face  wore  the  same  sinister  smile. 
The  progress  of  events  of  the  last  hour  had  gone 
far  astray  from  what  he  had  planned.  But,  what- 
ever might  happen,  Mrs.  St.  Just  and  her  com- 
panion would  do  his  bidding.  His  self-assurance 
returning,  with  a  dry  laugh  he  addressed  Mrs. 
St.  Just: 

"  This  loyalty  is  indeed  touching !  "  he  said. 

"  This  is  neither  the  time  nor  the  place  to  an- 
swer you  as  you  deserve,"  John  answered.  "  We 
will  have  our  reckoning  elsewhere."  He  turned 
to  the  minister  and  continued :  "  Sir,  I  have  been 
rightly  called  the  country  lover,  for  I  have  loved 
Miss  Blair  since  we  were  children  together,  and 
I  shall  continue  to  love  her,  until  God  in  his 
goodness  grants  me  the  love  of  as  pure  a  woman 
as  ever  graced  the  earth.  I  am  waiting  until  her 
heart  responds;  and  all  the  world  might  know 
what  has  passed  between  us.  I  thank  you,  sir, 
for  your  trust  in  her.  Believe  me,  it  has  not  been 
misplaced." 

He  took  Hester's  hand  in  his  own  and  together 
they  walked  down  the  aisle  and  out  into  the  starlit 
night.  They  went  on  in  silence:  the  same 


In  the  Church  21 1 

thoughts  and  feelings  filling  the  hearts  of  both. 
It  was  not  a  time  for  words.  Sorrow  and  morti- 
fication hung  heavy  upon  them,  and  neither  had 
a  desire  to  refer  to  the  happenings  of  the  past 
hour,  that  had  cost  them  their  happiness  and 
peace  of  mind.  To  Hester  it  seemed  like  a  night- 
mare. Yet,  like  a  beacon  light  shining  over  a  sea 
of  despair,  true  as  the  needle  to  the  pole,  was 
the  love  of  the  man  beside  her, — pure,  steadfast 
and  unchanging  as  the  march  of  time. 

As  she  thought  of  his  unselfish  love,  a  guilty 
feeling  took  possession  of  her.  He  gave  to  her 
his  heart,  his  life,  his  very  soul ;  and  she  gave  him 
in  return — what?  Affectionate  regard.  Yet  were 
he  to  go  out  of  her  life,  with  him  would  go  what 
desire  she  had  to  live.  Though  unconscious  of  it 
she  loved  him ;  and  as  the  ivy  clings  to  the  oak, 
so  she  leaned  upon  him  and  lived, — his  love  the 
one  support  of  her  being.  Hers  was  no  new-born 
passion  that  burned  fiercely  because  of  its  sudden 
birth.  It  was  the  return  for  a  life  devotion  that 
had  been  hers,  and  was  founded  on  the  trust  and 
confidence  that  she  felt  for  him.  No  one  knew 
her  better,  no  one  respected  her  sterling  qualities 
more  than  John.  His  trust  in  her  was  absolute, 
and  through  the  past  month,  when  appearances 
were  such  as  to  raise  a  doubt  in  the  mind  of  one 
who  judged  her  by  a  lower  standard,  his  faith  in 
her  was  unshaken ;  and  her  simple  assurance  out- 
weighed a  hundredfold  the  evidence  that  pointed 
to  her  guilt 


212  Hester    Blair 

They  reached  the  door  of  the  house  where  Hes- 
ter lodged.  John  took  her  hand  in  his  own. 

"  Hester  love,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  that  you  will 
not  take  this  too  much  to  heart." 

"  I  should  have  been  prepared  for  it ; "  she  re- 
plied, "  I  could  have  expected  nothing  else  after 
my  interview  with  Fenton.  But,  John  dear," 
her  voice  was  tremulous  with  emotion,  "  you  can- 
not know  the  feeling  of  shame,  of  humiliation! 
It  is  not  of  myself  that  I  think,  but  of  Ethel.  It 
cannot  be  kept  from  her  for  any  length  of  time; 
and  it  is  the  effect  on  her  young  life  that  I  most 
fear." 

They  entered  the  lower  hall  and  John  was 
about  to  leave  her. 

"  Promise  me,"  he  said,  "  that  if  you  need  as- 
sistance, even  advice,  you  will  send  for  ma" 

She  laughed  bitterly. 

"  To  whom  else  should  I  send,  John  dear?  " 
Then  with  a  sudden  impulse  she  continued  hur- 
riedly :  "  How  can  your  faith  in  me  withstand 
what  you  have  seen  and  heard?  Can  you  still 
go  on  trusting  me?  "  She  mused  a  moment  in 
deep  thought.  "  I  sometimes  think  that  men  are 
creatures  of  extremes,  they  either  trust  not  at 
all,  or  their  faith  is  carried  to  the  very  point 
where  reason  and  judgment  seem  to  forsake  them, 
so  blind  it  is,  so  unswerving,  so  unyielding  in  its 
loyalty.  And  you  still  believe  in  me,  John?  " 

"  Believe  in  you,  little  woman !  "  He  laughed 
softly  and  for  answer  kissed  her  lightly  on  the 


In  the  Church  213 

cheek.  "  Hester,"  he  said,  "  we  will  not  talk  of 
belief.  Think  only  of  the  future  that  is  before 
us." 

"  The  future?  "  she  laughed  sadly. 

"  Whatever  the  future  has  in  store  for  you,"  he 
answered,  "  you  will  share  with  me.  You  have 
only  to  say  the  word  that  will  make  our  lives 
one." 

"  Hush,  John  dear,  don't  speak  of  it  yet." 

With  a  tender  goodnight  he  left  her  and  walked 
rapidly  down  the  street. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SLACK  PLANS  A  TRIP  INTO  THE  WOODS  FOR  FENTON 

What  I'm  now  about  ter  say  is  good  termorrer  as  terday. 

Ef  yer  don't  want  folks  ter  know  what  yer  about, 
Listen  to  'em  without  blinkin';     jest  keep  up  a  mighty 
thinkin', 

An'  the  chances  are  they'll  never  find  it  out. 

"liT  ORTON  was  in  commotion.  The  annual 
\  spring  cleaning  was  under  full  sway.  Not 
A.  i  only  were  the  housewives  busy,  but  along 
the  water  front,  and  in  the  fishermen's  quarters, 
all  was  bustle  and  noisy  preparation  for  the  com- 
ing summer  season.  Boats  were  dragged  out 
from  winter  quarters;  there  was  scraping  and 
scrubbing ;  painting  and  overhauling  of  riggings ; 
old  sails,  and,  in  some  instances  masts  were  being 
replaced  by  new  and  staunch  material.  Cheerful 
expectancy  pervaded  the  village,  for  the  fisher- 
men looked  forward  to  a  prosperous  season  and 
were  preparing  to  meet  it, 

The  toilers  of  the  sea  exchanged  cheerful  greet- 
ings, and  good-naturedly  badgered  each  other. 
If  these  were  resented,  the  victim  of  their  homely 
pleasantries  would  receive  a  gentle  reminder, 
that  next  to  perpetrating  a  good  joke,  was  the 
ability  to  take  one ;  and  he  who  would  not  enter 
into  the  humor  of  their  ways,  would  find  his  work 

214 


Slack  Plans  a  Trip  for  Fenton       2 1 5 

of  the  past  week  undone.  Some  bright  morning, 
the  erring  member  of  their  guild  would  discover 
his  fishing  nets  in  a  hopeless  tangle  of  knots,  that 
would  require  hours  or  days  to  unravel ;  the  mast 
of  his  boat  would  mysteriously  disappear;  and 
paint,  of  colors  rare  and  monstrous,  spread  with 
a  lavish  hand  and  with  pointed  disregard  for 
symmetry  or  artistic  effect,  would  bedeck  the 
craft  of  the  Unwise  One,  that  was  at  once  his 
pride  and  means  of  livelihood. 

These  little  incidents  enlivened  the  tedium  of 
their  lives,  and  served  as  events  in  their  mo- 
notonous existence. 

On  a  mild  spring  day  in  the  latter  part  of  April, 
Slack  was  at  work  on  the  wharf  calking  his  small 
boat.  A  double  row  of  empty  barrels  hid  him 
from  view  from  the  land  side,  and  only  the  click 
of  his  chisel  could  be  heard.  The  wharf  was 
owned  by  a  company  of  which  John's  uncle  was 
president,  and  was,  during  John's  absence,  in 
Slack's  charge. 

Captain  Edwards  pulled  up  to  where  Slack 
was  at  work,  and  rested  on  his  oars. 

"  What  be  yer  adoin,'  Slacky?  " 

"  I'm  a  cockin'  this  yer  dory,"  answered  Slack, 
"  don't  know  whether  I  kin  make  her  float  er  not. 
She's  'bout  played  out." 

"  Heard  th'  news,  heven'  yer?  " 

"  Nothin'  out  er  common,"  Slack  replied. 

"  That  Mr.  Fenton  as  wer'  'ere  las'  summer 
come  on  th'  arternoon  train." 


2i 6  Hester    Blair 

"  The  devil !  "  ejaculated  Slack. 

"  Huh?  "  interrogated  the  captain. 

"  O,  I  wer'  thinkin'  it  wer'  early  fer  summer 
visitors,"  Slack  replied. 

"  Taken  Squire  Bently's  cottage  fer  th'  sum- 
mer." 

"  Hes  he?  Em !  "  Slack  manifested  but  slight 
interest. 

"  When  be  Hessie  comin'  ?  "  queried  the  cap- 
tain. 

"  Don'  know  zactly,  sometime  this  week." 

"  Be  she  goin'  to  stay  all  summer?  " 

"  Couldn't  say,  mebbe." 

"  John's  goin'  ter  hev  a  piece  built  on  ter  th' 
wharf.  D'e  tell  yer?  " 

"  Heered  'im  mention  it,"  Slack  replied.  He 
continued  working. 

The  captain  was  no  sooner  gone,  than  Slack 
dropped  his  chisel  and  his  face  wore  an  expres- 
sion of  anything  but  unconcern.  He  thought  long 
and  deeply,  but  could  arrive  at  no  satisfactory 
solution  of  the  motives  of  Fenton's  visit. 

The  one  fact  that  obtruded  itself  was  that  Fen- 
ton  was  in  Norton. 

Why  he  came,  was  beyond  the  grasp  of  the 
fisherman.  He  was  satisfied  that  no  good  would 
follow  his  coming ;  and  he  could  not  but  associate 
Fenton's  arrival  with  the  return  of  Hester.  His 
brow  was  knit  in  deep  meditation,  and  an  omi- 
nous expression  came  into  his  eyes.  He  had 
ceased  working,  and  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  ap- 


Slack  Plans  a  Trip  for  Fenton       217 

preaching  footsteps  until  a  movement  directly  in 
front  of  where  he  was  sitting  arrested  his  atten- 
tion. He  peered  through  the  opening  in  the  row 
of  barrels.  Fenton,  smoking  a  cigarette,  stood 
not  twenty  feet  away,  looking  out  over  the  har- 
bor. Slack's  first  impulse  was  to  spring  upon  him, 
and  throw  him  into  the  water;  and  while  he  was 
seriously  considering  this  point,  he  heard  foot- 
steps coming  down  the  Wharf,  and  recognized  the 
quick,  swinging  gait  of  John  Gary.  He  looked 
gloatingly  at  the  stalwart  figure  of  his  friend, 
and  waited  expectantly  for  him  to  speak.  Slack 
knew  the  feelings  that  John  entertained  toward 
Fenton,  and  the  fisherman  grinned  as  he  mentally 
measured  the  two  men;  Fenton,  lithe,  graceful, 
tall,  slender  and  effeminate  looking :  every  detail 
of  his  dress  in  faultless  good  taste ;  John,  the  per- 
sonification of  healthful,  robust,  manly  vigor: 
broad  shouldered,  deep  chested,  well  put  together, 
with  the  carriage  of  the  trained  athlete.  John 
had  on  a  suit  of  old  clothes  which  he  always  wore 
when  at  work  about  the  wharf  that  were  in 
marked  contrast  with  the  tailor  made  garments 
of  Fenton. 

Slack's  heart  went  out  to  "  his  boy."  He  ex- 
pected something  to  happen.  He  was  not  disap- 
pointed. John  in  a  tone  devoid  of  passion  ad- 
dressed Fenton. 

"  Mr.  Fenton,  I  recognize  your  right  as  that 
of  any  man  to  come  to  Norton.  I  ask  if  your  visit 
here  has  any  connection  with  Miss  Blair?  " 


2 1 8  Hester    Blair 

"  As  you  admit  my  right  to  come  here,  I  also 
concede  your  right  to  ask  damn  impertinent  ques- 
tions; but  I  exercise  my  privilege  of  not  answer- 
ing them." 

"  Sir,"  answered  John  in  an  even  tone,  "  I  do 
not  wish  to  quarrel  with  you;  yet  I  insist  on  an 
answer,  and  I  will  have  it.  Do  you  intend  to 
continue  your  persecutions  of  Miss  Blair?  " 

Fenton  was  not  a  coward.  He  could  not  but 
see  that  John  was  his  superior  physically;  and 
on  this  isolated  wharf,  if  he  stopped  to  consider 
at  all,  he  must  have  recognized  that  he  was  en- 
tirely at  the  mercy  of  the  man  before  him.  His 
tone  was  sneeringly  patronizing  as  he  answered : 

"  Let  me  see !  Since  when  were  you  commis- 
sioned to  meddle  in  my  affairs,  and  by  wrhom?  " 

He  looked  John  over  contemptuously,  a  half 
sneer  on  his  lips.  The  look  was  more  provoking 
than  the  words,  and  cut  John  like  a  whip  lash  in 
the  face. 

Slack  could  see  every  changing  expression  on 
the  countenances  of  the  two  men.  The  fisher- 
man's eyes  snapped  with  excitement;  his  hands 
clenched  firmly;  and,  with  his  body  thrust  for- 
ward until  his  forehead  touched  the  barrels,  he 
watched  the  encounter  between  them  with  breath- 
less interest.  Insolent  though  Fenton  was,  Slack 
admired  the  courage  of  the  man,  whom  he  ad- 
mitted must  be  without  fear.  He  saw  the  blood 
rush  to  John's  face  and  marveled  at  his  self- 


Slack  Plans  a  Trip  for  Fenton       2 1 9 

control.  John  answered  without  a  trace  of 
anger. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  argue  the  matter  with 
you,"  he  said,  "  but  believe  me,  Miss  Blair  is  not 
without  friends." 

"  Nor,"  sneered  Fenton,  "  without  admirers.  I 
plead  guilty  to  being  one  of  the  number.  I  re- 
alize I'm  not  alone.  The  late  Mr.  Featherly  out- 
matched us.  Rather  provoking  considering  I  was 
his  equal  financially." 

At  this  covert  allusion  which  was  not  to  be 
misunderstood,  John  stepped  a  few  paces  for- 
ward. His  hands  were  clenched,  his  eyes  blazed, 
and  his  general  aspect  was  threatening.  He 
seemed  about  to  strike  Fenton,  and  Slack  made 
an  involuntary  movement  that  set  the  barrels  in 
motion,  which,  however,  passed  unnoticed. 

John  controlled  himself  and  his  voice  was 
pitched  in  a  low  key  as  he  answered : 

"  Sir,  there  is  not  a  man  in  Norton  who  would 
not,  if  need  be,  defend  Miss  Blair.  What  I  say 
to  you  is  not  meant  as  a  threat,  but  it  will  be  well 
for  you  to  cease  your  persecution  of  her." 

"And  leave  the  field  to  you,  eh?"  Fenton  re- 
plied with  a  laugh.  "  Young  man,  when  you  are 
older  you  will  realize  that  it  takes  money " 

He  got  no  further.  With  a  spring  John  grasped 
him  by  the  throat,  and  shook  him  until  the  veins 
in  Fenton's  forehead  stood  out  like  whipcords. 

Slack,  in  his  excitement,  had  jumped  to  his  feet, 


22O  Hester   Blair 

and  his  head  appeared  above  the  row  of  barrels. 
His  eyes  danced,  and  he  grinned  as  he  saw  Fen- 
ton's  distorted  face. 

John  flung  Fenton  violently  from  him.  The 
head  behind  the  barrels  disappeared ;  and  Fenton, 
with  an  effort  to  regain  his  self-composure,  pulled 
himself  together. 

"  Let  that  be  a  reminder,"  said  John,  "  to  think 
twice  before  you  again  refer  to  the  lady  in  ques- 
tion." 

John  turned  quickly  and  walked  down  the 
wharf,  followed  by  a  sneering  laugh. 

"  Eh  Gad !  "  muttered  Fenton,  "  but  I  rather 
admire  the  fellow.  He  has  a  grip  of  steel  and 
Herculean  strength.  Ha !  but  he  did  pinch !  "  He 
rubbed  his  throat  and  neck  with  his  hand,  then 
continued :  "  Brute  force  may  win  battles,  but 
in  modern  warfare  strategy  has  displaced  it.  You 
will  find,  young  man,  that  an  ounce  of  finesse, 
is  worth  a  pound  of  flesh, — even  of  the  muscular- 
developed  article.  If  you  had  trained  your  mind 
as  you  have  your  muscle,  your  progress  in  love 
making  might  meet  with  quicker  return." 

He  took  a  telegram  from  his  pocket  and  read 
it.  A  smile  played  about  the  corners  of  his 
mouth.  He  looked  in  the  direction  that  John 
had  taken  and  spoke  softly : 

"  You  don't  know  that  the  fair  Hester  is  com- 
ing on  to-night's  train — a  day  ahead  of  time.  So 
much  for  having  a  confidential  agent  in  New 
York." 


Slack  Plans  a  Trip  for  Fenton      221 

He  looked  at  the  telegram  which  he  held  and 
read  aloud :  "  Left  on  the  Boston  express.  If 
through  connections  will  arrive  at  Norton  at  8 :30 
p.  m.,"  he  continued  after  a  pause,  "  and  I  am 
the  only  one  that  knows  of  her  coming;  and  I 
shall  be  the  first  to  greet  her  at  the  station." 

He  lighted  a  cigarette  and  walked  slowly  down 
the  wharf  toward  the  village. 

Slack's  fuzzy  head  again  appeared  above  the 
top  of  the  barrels.  He  then  seated  himself  on 
the  edge  of  the  dory,  and  with  a  chisel  in  one 
hand,  and  a  stick  of  wood  in  the  other,  thought 
long  and  deeply.  He  was  busy  cutting  a  notch  in 
the  stick  and  whistled  softly,  his  usual  custom 
when  worried.  He  spoke,  puncturing  each  sen- 
tence with  a  notch  in  the  stick. 

"  So  yer  the  only  one  thet  knows  as  Hessie's 
comin'  air  yer?  He,  he,  he.  When  yer  air  older 
young  man,  yer'll  hev  more  of  what  yer  call  fine- 
ness, and  read  yer  telegrams  ter  yerself.  Yer 
ought  to  know  'fore  this  time  thet  boats  hev  ears, 
an'  barrels  hev  ears,  an' " — he  jabbed  the  chisel 
into  the  wood — "  yer  dern  fool,  ef  yer  breathe 
in  the  State  of  Maine,  someone  in  Vermont's  sure 
ter  hear  yer." 

The  third  notch  was  well  under  way.  Slack 
held  the  stick  up  and  examined  his  work,  shaving 
a  little  from  one  side  and  smoothing  the  other, 
inspecting  it  meanwhile  with  a  critical  eye. 
"  An',"  he  continued,  "  yer'll  be  the  only  one  to 
meet  her  at  the  depot  ter-night;  well,  mebbe  yer 


222  Hester    Blair 

will,  an'  then  agin,  mebbe  yer  won't.  The  dum 
thing  ain't  even,"  he  growled,  as  he  examined 
the  results  of  his  efforts  with  the  chisel.  After 
a  close  scrutiny  of  the  stick,  he  continued :  "  It 
'pears  ter  me  that  /  might  be  considered  in  this 
ere  'rangement.  First  of  all,  Mr.  Fenton,  you 
won't  be  the  only  one  to  meet  Hessie  at  the  depot, 
thet's  'lowing  thet  yer  git  there." 

He  rounded  off  another  notch,  then :  "  An'  it's 
exceedin'  doubtful  ef  yer  reach  th'  depot  at  all, 
thet  is,  ter-night.  An'  'less  my  calkerlations  go 
th'  way  uv  Jim  Kobinson's  chickens,  when  they 
disappeared  'tween  sunset  and  sunrise,  'cause  Jim 
wouldn't  shet  em  up,  an'  stop  'em  from  scratchin' 
up  th'  neighbors'  gardens " 

He  paused  in  his  work  and  chuckled.  "  Gosh !  " 
he  addressed  the  stick  he  held  in  his  hand,  "  I 
eat  some  of  them  chickens  myself.  I  guess  most 
everyone  hed  chicken  soup  th'  next  day,  an'  cold 
chicken  every  day  for  a  week:  thet  is,  everyone 
'cept  Jim  Robinson ! — Well,  as  I  was  sayin'  Mr. 
Fenton,  yer've  got  to  be  given  th'  same  hint  as 
we  give  Jim,  an'  thet  is,  thet  th'  majority  rules  in 
this  yer  hamlet  of  ourn." 

He  regarded  his  efforts  at  whittling  with  dis- 
approval, "  dern  the  thing !  "  he  grumbled,  throw- 
ing the  stick  into  the  water,  "  I  can't  whittle 
straight  and  think  too." 

He  leaned  against  the  row  of  barrels  and 
thought  long  and  deeply.  The  constantly  chang- 
ing expression  of  his  features  betrayed  his  emo- 


Slack  Plans  a  Trip  for  Fenton       223 

tions.  There  was  an  expression  on  his  face  that 
those  who  knew  him  disliked  to  see.  His  mouth 
was  firmly  set,  and,  as  he  stood  with  one  hand 
grasping  the  edge  of  a  barrel,  and  the  other  hold- 
ing the  chisel,  bareheaded,  his  form  erect  and 
straight  as  an  arrow,  and  with  a  look  of  set  de- 
termination on  his  face,  he  looked  what  he  was — 
a  picture  of  sturdy  and  self-reliant  manhood. 

"  John  an'  Penton  hev  hed  trouble  in  New 
York.  Thet's  certain,"  he  mused,  "  an'  John 
knows  he's  chasin'  o'  Hessie."  He  paused,  then 
in  a  tone  of  firm  conviction : 

"  Ef  he  knew  John  Gary  es  well  es  I  do,  he'd 
rather  buck  up  agin  a  wild  Injun  'n  tackle  'im. 
"Ef  he  gets  arter  'im  in  downright  earnest — well, 
Bud  Hennessey  kin  tell  'im  all  about  it.  Bud  said 
he  could  down  any  man  in  the  county.  He  would 
lick  his  wife  an'  he  wouldn't  listen  ter  John  when 
John  told  'im  not  ter  lick  her  agin,  or  he'd 
hev  ter  settle.  Well,  Bud  licked  her  agin  thet 
same  night,  an'  then — ho,  ho,  ho — "  roared  Slack, 
'"  an'  then  he  settled  with  John.  Yer  bet  he  did ! 
But  warn't  Bud  a  sight !  And  John  didn't  let  up 
till  Bud  promised  never  ter  lift  a  finger  to  her 
agin,  an'  he  never  hes.  Yes,  Mr.  Fenton,  Bud'll 
tell  yer  all  about  it.  Ter  start  with,  yer  not  goin' 
ter  meet  Hessie  ter-night !  But  I  can't  think  it  out 
here.  I'll  go  outside  fer  a  sail  an'  th'  wind'll 
blow  th'  cobwebs  out  er  my  brain ;  an'  fore  night, 
I'll  hev  a  little  trip  arranged  fer  yer,  Mr.  Fen- 
ton, er  my  name's  not  Slack  Dorkins." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FENTON'S  PLANS  MISCARRY 

A  boat  drifts  out  to  open  sea, 

The  patient  helmsman  sits  astern, 
Anon,  he  laughs  right  merrily, 

Though  fires  of  wrath  within  him  burn. 
"  Though  I'm  not  much  on  books,"  quoth  he, 

"  I  do  know  jest  a  thing  or  two; 
What  most  consarns  us — you  an'  me, 

'S  jest  how  ter  'range  a  trip  fer  you." 
The  lapping  waves  laughed  with  disdain. 

He  paused,  and  silence  reigned  again. 

ON  the  still  waters  of  the  bay,  a  small  boat, 
catrigged,  steals  softly  out  of  the  harbor 
of  Norton.  There  is  scarcely  wind  enough 
to  fill  the  sail,  that  flaps  petulantly  for  want  of 
motive  power.  The  tide  has  turned  and  is  run- 
ning out,  lending  some  assistance  to  the  impa- 
tient Slack,  who,  sitting  astern,  answers  the 
gibes  and  sarcasms  of  his  fisherman  friends  and 
rivals.  The  dullest  of  them  are  surprised  and 
inquisitively  anxious,  regarding  the  cause  of  his 
departure  at  this  unusual  hour.  If  he  were  not 
alone,  there  would  have  been  no  cause  for  com- 
ment. ;  but  at  this  time  of  day  and  without  what 
they  termed  a  "  freight," — they  were  quick  to 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  something  unusual 
was  taking  place — or  had  Slack  one  of  his  spells? 

224 


Fenton's  Plans  Miscarry  225 

He  passed  within  hailing  distance  of  Seth 
Binks'  boat.  The  industrious  Binks  ceased 
scrubbing  the  deck  of  his  schooner  to  hail  him. 

"  Where  in  thunder  be  yer  goin'  at  this  time 
er  day?" 

"  Nowhere  in  'ticular,"  drawled  Slack,  "  jest 
takin'  a  sail." 

"  Yer  ain't  in  the  habit  er  goin'  outside  to  take 
a  sail  alone !  What's  struck  yer?  " 

"  O  nothin'  much,  jest  er  killin'  time." 

"  D'yer  know  Mr.  Fenton's  here  fer  th'  sum- 
mer? " 

"  Is  he?  "  was  the  noncommittal  reply. 

"  Yes,  thet's  his  yacht  yonder.  She's  anchored 
near  Bill  Blake's  schooner.  See  her?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see  'er." 

"  Mr.  Fenton's  goin'  outside  with  'er  ter-mor- 
rer." 

"  How'd  you  know?  " 

"  Skipper  tole  me." 

"  Mebbe  he  be,"  was  Slack's  retort  in  an  under- 
tone. His  caution  was,  however,  unnecessary : — 
the  boats  were  out  of  speaking  distance. 

It  was  too  confined  in  the  bay,  and  Slack 
steered  for  the  open  water.  As  he  passed  the 
light-house  point,  the  boat  answered  to  the  fresh 
breeze  outside,  the  cool  air  tossed  his  hair  into 
wild  disorder,  cleared  the  fog  from  his  brain,  and 
the  happenings  of  the  past  few  hours  began  to 
arrange  themselves  with  systematic  clearness. 
He  struck  the  knuckles  of  his  bony  hand  against 


226  Hester  Blair 

his  forehead  to  get  his  ideas  into  working  trim. 
The  water  lapping  the  sides  of  the  boat  soothed 
him,  and  his  habitual  expression  of  good-nature 
returned.  Now  and  then  a  wave  of  larger  dimen- 
sions would  splash  complainingly  against  the 
boat,  interrupting  his  thoughts  for  the  moment; 
then  his  smile  would  broaden  to  a  grin,  as  some 
new  aspect  of  the  situation  presented  itself.  He 
was  a  mile  or  more  from  the  nearest  land.  The 
ocean  swell  lifted  the  little  craft  buoyantly  on  its 
crest,  toyed  with  it,  and  playfully  passed  it  down 
to  the  miniature  green-blue  vale,  there  to  meet 
and  surmount  the  next  oncoming  wave. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Fenton,"  spoke  Slack  in  a  positive 
tone,  "  this  much  is  settled :  yer've  met  John  in 
New  York,  an'  yer've  ben  up  ter  some  diveltry. 
That's  as  plain  as  the  wart  on  Capt.  Edwards' 
nose.  An'  yer  come  here  again  to  see  Hessie,  an' 
thet's  as  clear — clear  as  light  through  a  jellyfish. 
Yer  come  with  yer  fine  yacht,  an'  by  the  looks  of 
er  she  do  lay  over  anything  on  this  yer  coast. 
Well,  everything's  O.  K.  till  yer  get  here.  Then 
what?  Why,  yer  walks  down  ter  the  wharf  big 
es  life,  an'  who's  the  fust  yer  run  inter?  Why 
John,  o'course.  Then  the  fun  commences.  John 
sez,  l  Mr.  Fenton,  I  don't  care  whether  yer  come 
to  Norton  or  whether  yer  don't  come  to  Norton ; 
yer  kin  do  as  yer  dern  please  about  it,'  er  words 
to  thet  effect.  'But  ef  yer  come  down  'ere,  yer 
ter  let  Hessie  'lone.'  Thet's  what  he  meant, 
though  mebbe  he  didn't  say  it  in  them  same 


Fenton's  Plans  Miscarry  227 

words.  Fenton  says  something  about  answer- 
ing damn  impertinent  questions,  then  John  sez, 
'  remember  what  I  tell  yer :  Hessie's  got  all  the 
friends  she  wants/  and  thet's  where  John  hed  it 
right.  Then  the  dern  skunk  said  somethin'  'bout 
money,  an'  thet's  where  John  grabbed  'im  by  th' 
throat  an'  shook  the  dern  life  out  o'  'im.  Gosh ! 
don'  believe  I  could  er  done  it  better  m'self. 
Then  he  jest  fired  Fenton  agin  the  barrels,  same's 
he  were  a  bundle  er  rags,  and  walks  off  as  though 
'e  wer*  King  o'  th'  Cannibal  Islands,  an'  first 
cousin  ter  the  Governor.  Gum!  I  jest  wished 
John  hed  passed  him  over  ter  me.  I  heven't  hed 
any  practice  to  speak  of  since  I  parted  with  the 
feller  on  the  Bowery  as  knowed  me  *  Down 
East,'  an'  wanted  ter  show  me  the  sights." 

"  Now,  thet  dern  fool  shud  hev  knowed  I  sized 
'im  the  minute  I  set  eyes  on  'im.  He  wanted  ter 
show  me  th'  sights,  an'  I  let  'im  do  th'  showin'; 
but  when  he  wanted  ter  drink,  he  drank  alone. 
Thet  was  one  er  th'  nights  thet  I  wer'  drinkin' 
nothin'.  An'  then — ho,  ho,  ho — he  got  er  little 
fresh,  an'  I  took  'im  in  hand — jest  as  though 
he'd  never  knowed  me  *  Down  East.'  But  he 
put  up  a  good  fight,  thet  I'll  allow;  an'  I  was 
a  dustin'  an  alley  way  with  'im,  when  a  policeman 
came  along  an'  grabbed  us  both.  He,  he,  he — 
wan'  he  a  sight!  Huh!  yer  can't  kill  thet  kind. 
But  ef  Millie  ever  finds  it  out!  " — He  shuddered. 
Then  with  a  rueful  nod  of  his  head :  "  It'll  be 
all  up  with  me,  an'  no  mistake  on  thet  point. 


228  Hester    Blair 

Here  I  am  " — he  addressed  a  sea  gull  that  sailed 
majestically  by — "  rambling  'way  like  an  ole 
woman,  an'  with  what  hes  no  more  to  do  with 
what  I  come  out  here  fer,  than  nothin'  'tall.  Let's 
see!  Where  wer7  yer  Slacky?  O  yes!  Then  Mr. 
Fenton  lights  a  cigarette  and  says,  he'd  be 
damned  ef  he  didn't  admire  John.  An'  thefs 
where  I  'greed  with  Fenton.  Now  the  whole  thing 
is  here  in  a  nutshell :  John  sez  he  don't  want  yer 
'round  botherin'  Hessie;  an'  what  John  sez  goes 
in  this  yer  village,  an'  here  abouts.  Mr.  Fenton, 
yer'ye  got  ter  learn,  an'  we've  got  our  own  way  of 
teachin'  yer ;  an'  th'  sooner  yer  take  yer  medsin 
the  better." 

An  expression,  beatific  in  its  sublime  confi- 
dence, overspread  the  features  of  the  fisherman. 
With  philosophical  wisdom  he  spoke :  "  Slack,  in 
the  language  of  the  books,  yer've  'riv'  at  a  con- 
clusion." 

Long  he  paused.  His  scheme,  which  was  re- 
volving in  his  brain,  was  mirrored  in  his  eyes. 
The  constantly  changing  expression  of  his  face 
told  the  difficulties  he  was  mentally  encounter- 
ing. Then  his  features  would  relax  into  a  broad 
grin,  and  an  audible  chuckle  break  the  stillness. 
His  voice  again  interrupted  the  splash  of  the 
water. 

"  Yer've  got  ter  learn  a  lesson,  Mr.  Fenton, 
an'  one  thet  you'll  remember.  Yer  can't  come 
down  here  with  yer  New  York  way  of  doing 
things,  'specially  when  it's  a  cussed  mean  way. 


Fenton's  Plans  Miscarry  229 

Yer  not  goin'  ter  meet  Hessie  ter-night.  Thet's 
settled.  An'  I  think  we'll  give  yer  a  little  trip 
up  country  or  down  th'  coast.  Yer  ken  take  yer 
choice  of  goin'  twenty  miles  inter  th'  woods  'n 
stoppin'  er  day  or  two  at  Col.  Demmock's  hunt- 
in'  camp,  or  takin'  a  trip  in  Bill  Blake's 
schooner.  Ef  yer  go  ter  the  camp,  yer'll  hev  ter 
ride  twenty  miles  over  a  mighty  rough  road  ter- 
night,  an'  th'  feed  you'll  get  there  ain't  fattenin'. 
Ef  yer  go  in  Bill's  schooner,  yer'll  hev  a  good 
'nough  cabin,  an'  be  set  down  on  the  coast  when 
yer've  repented  in  a  Christian-like  fashion,  an' 
hed  time  ter  see  th'  folly  ef  yer  ways.  Now  ter 
save  yer  th'  trouble  of  choosin',  I'll  do  it  for  yer. 
Here  comes  a  whitecap.  Ef  th'  boat  ships  any 
water  ter  the  camp  yer  go;  ef  she  don't,  yer'll 
go  sailin'  with  Bill  Blake,  an'  not  in  yer  own 
yacht,  though  I'll  'low  she'd  be  more  on  com- 
fort ;  an'  besides,  Bill's  got  the  divil's  own  tem- 
per. Steady  with  the  rudder  Slacky,  we'll  do 
the  fair  thing." 

On  came  the  whitecap.  The  boat  met  it  with 
a  biff  of  the  prow.  It  mounted  and  rode  the 
crest  with  swan-like  ease,  and  the  spray  flew  into 
the  face  of  the  silent  helmsman. 

"  Putty  close,"  he  muttered,  "  but  I  guess  Mr. 
Fenton  yer'll  go  to  the  camp.  By  gum!  thet's 
settled.  I  feel  better  a'ready.  Now  I've  decided 
what  ter  do,  we'll  see  what's  the  best  way  ter  do 
it.  Ther'll  be  time  'nough  ter  figure  on  where 
the  thing'll  land  me.  Fust,  we've  got  ter  hev  a 


230  Hester  Blair 

team.  Penton  sez  he's  goin'  ter  the  8 :  30  train 
ter  meet  Hessie.  He,  he,  he,"  chuckled  the  re- 
sourceful Slack,  "  Mebbe  he  be.  The  chances  are 
he'll  go  'lone.  Ef  there's  no  one  with  him,  it's  as 
clear  sailin'  as  runnin'  this  yer  boat.  Ef  he 
ben't  alone — well,  I  reckon  I  kin  git  all  the  help  I 
need." 

He  mused  awhile  and  a  serious  expression 
overspread  his  features.  Another  aspect  of  the 
undertaking  had  presented  itself. 

"  Now,"  he  continued,  "  they  don't  kidnap  a 
man  in  this  yer  State  'thout  a  fuss  bein'  made. 
Wall,  ef  it  gets  too  hot,  I'll  go  ter  Jedge  Bixby 
and  make  a  clean  breast  on't.  /  kin  remember 
when  the  Jedge  didn't  hev  a  cent; — when  Hes- 
sie's  father  picked  him  up.  He  wer'  poorer  than 
I  ever  wer'.  Mr.  Blair  sent  him  ter  school ;  tuck 
him  inter  his  office  ter  study  th'  law;  made  a 
man  of  him,  an'  a  jedge  ef  'im.  I  don't  think 
Jedge  Bixby'd  be  very  hard  on  anyone  tryin' 
ter  save  the  daughter  of  Henry  Blair  from  a  dum 
rascal.  Anyhow,  Slack  Dorkins,  we'll  take  the 
chances.  We'd  do  more'n  thet  for  John  an'  th' 
gals,  more'n  thet." 

Bringing  the  boat  up  to  the  wind,  the  sail 
filled,  and  the  slender  mast  bent  to  the  work.  He 
hummed  snatches  of  songs,  that  had  often  made 
the  nets  haul  easier,  and  the  long  stretches  of 
dreary  weather  and  still  drearier  sea,  seem 
brighter  and  more  companionable. 

As  he  entered  the  harbor  on  his  return  he  was 


Fenton's  Plans  Miscarry  231 

met  with  a  storm  of  jeering  remarks  and  good- 
natured  raillery. 

"  Oh,  ho,  some  folks  must  hev  it  bad  when 
they'd  go  sailin'  'lone — Millie  ain't  refused  yer 
agin,  hes  she — he's  ben  outside  ter  fix  the  weddin' 
day ! " 

No  answer  from  the  boat  being  steered  by  a 
master-hand  through  the  tangle  of  small  craft. 
Slack  ran  up  alongside  Bill  Blake's  schooner 
rigged  yacht  and  made  fast. 

"  Ho,  Bill !  "  he  bellowed,  "  come  up  on  deck, 
I  want  ter  see  yer." 

Bill  heard  the  voice  booming  along  the  com- 
panion way,  and  answered  with  an  alacrity  un- 
common among  fishermen.  It  was  enough  for 
Slack  to  call,  for  Bill  to  respond  without  ques- 
tion ;  and  he  looked  the  gratitude  and  admiration 
that  he  was  forbidden  to  utter.  Bill  had  not  for- 
gotten : — which  went  to  prove  that  he  was  un- 
mindful of  the  ways  of  the  world. 

"  How  do,  Slacky,  I  saw  yer  go  out.  Won't 
yer  come  aboard?  Got  a  little  old  stuff  down  in 
the  cabin,  some  I  got  from  Bost'n." 

"  No  thank  yer,  can't  stop.  Jump  inter  my 
boat.  I've  got  somethin'  to  say  ter  yer." 

Bill  lowered  himself  into  the  boat.  The  heads 
of  the  two  men  were  close  together  and  only 
scraps  of  their  conversation  were  audible. 

"  Yes,  I'll  do  it,"  said  Bill  in  a  mysterious  tone. 
"  Double  team ;  that  drygoods  wagon  of  Simp- 
son's would  be  a  good  one.  Seth'll  give  me  all 


232  Hester  Blair 

the  help  I  want,  'n  you  keep  out  er  th'  way.  Yes, 
you  tend  to  Hessie;  I'll  take  care  of  Mr.  Fen  ton — 
they'll  never  suspect  me — O'course  ther's  some 
risk — O,  never  min'  me,  I'll  take  keer  o'  myself — 
You  keep  out  er  sight.  You  know  you  can  count 
on  me.  I'll  take  keer  ev  'im.  He  kin  spend  the 
night  in  the  camp,  an'  in  the  morning  he  kin  walk 
eight  miles  ter  the  nearest  house.  Dern  'im,  it'll 
be  good  exercise  fer  'im.  Good-by  Slacky." 

A  push  from  the  black  hull  of  the  boat,  a  turn 
of  the  rudder,  and  the  boat  glided  to  her  anchor- 
age. Slack  quietly  entered  the  cabin  of  his 
schooner,  and  the  fumes  of  an  old  black  pipe 
filled  the  little  craft,  also  it  filled  the  heart  of 
the  silent  smoker  with  wondrous  content. 

Bill  Blake  was  quietly  busy.  Mysterious  prep- 
arations were  being  made  by  him,  but  there  was 
no  noise,  bustle  or  excitement  to  be  noticed  in  his 
appearance  or  movements. 

If  one  were  interested,  he  might  have  dis- 
covered in  an  old  barn,  half  way  between  the 
village  and  the  railway  station,  a  pair  of  horses 
hitched  to  an  old  fashioned  close  vehicle,  that 
was  formerly  the  property  of  a  drygoods  peddler. 

Some  hours  before  the  north  bound  train  was 
due,  Bill  and  Portuguese  Joe  were  seated  in  the 
barn,  and  through  the  partly  closed  door  scrutin- 
ized each  passerby.  They  were  a  goodly  pair, 
muscular  and  determined.  To  Bill  Blake,  death 


Fenton's  Plans  Miscarry  233 

would  be  preferable  to  failure.  He  naively  as- 
serted :  "  Thet  Slacky  bed  a  mortgage  on  his 
life;  tbe  int'rest  was  long  overdue,  an'  he'd  like 
ter  pay  off  some  er  the  principal." 

Patiently  they  waited.  The  dusk  of  evening 
was  merging  into  night.  A  whip-o-will  sent  out 
a  note  of  warning;  a  night  owl  hooted  irrele- 
vantly; and  a  soft  breeze  set  the  tall  pines  that 
bordered  each  side  of  the  road  to  sobbing  fitfully. 

Fenton  walked  leisurely  and  unheedingly  on 
his  way  to  the  station.  The  barn  door  squeaked 
on  its  rusty  hinges,  and  the  team  was  slowly 
driven  after  the  solitary  pedestrian. 

At  a  turn  in  the  road  where  the  branches  of 
the  trees  met,  the  horses  came  to  an  abrupt  halt, 
and  the  two  men  sprang  to  the  ground.  A  short, 
sharp,  decisive  struggle  followed,  and  Fenton  lay 
on  his  back  in  the  wagon,  bound  hand  and  foot. 
A  towel  was  tied  over  his  face,  and  with  stifled 
oaths  and  imprecations  from  their  victim,  the 
men  whipped  up  their  horses  and,  with  madden- 
ing speed,  turned  sharply  into  the  seldom  fre- 
quented road,  and  were  lost  in  the  wooded  waste. 

The  north  bound  train  rumbled  into  Norton 
thirty  minutes  late. 

Hester  alighted  and  looked  about  her  for  the 
driver  of  the  public  carriage.  Almost  immedi- 
ately, Slack,  cap  in  hand,  making  his  best  cour- 
tesy, stood  before  her. 


234  Hester  Blair 

"  Why,  Miss  Hessie,  this  be  a  surprise.  Hed 
no  idea  yer  wer'  coinin'  ter-night.  Lucky  I  came 
down.  My  rig's  here.  I'll  take  yer  home." 

Hester  greeted  him  warmly. 

"  Thank  you,  Slack,  I'm  so  glad  you  are  here. 
It  is,  indeed,  fortunate  that  you  came." 

Her  smile  of  thanks  repaid  her  listener  a 
thousand-fold  for  the  risk  he  was  running  in  her 
behalf ;  and  his  heart  thumped  with  joy  at  seeing 
her  again.  He  took  her  small  hand-grip  and 
led  the  way  to  "  his  rig."  He  muttered :  "  Gosh ! 
I'm  learnin'  ter  lie  'most  as  good  as  Jed  Dudley." 
Then  aloud :  "  Quite  an  accident  my  bein'  here, 
Miss  Hessie,  quite  'n  accident.  Hedn'  any  ide' 
yer  wer'  comin'  'fore  ter-morrer." 

They  entered  the  carriage  and  drove  rapidly 
away,  and  the  stars  blinked  down  their  forgive- 
ness and  benediction  on  the  erring  Slack. 


CHAPTER  XX 

HESTER'S  HOMECOMING 

"The  same  old  home,  the  same  old  friends  and  yet — 
Would  that  I  could  forget!  " 

AS  they  sped  homeward,  Slack  kept  up  a  con- 
stant chatter.  The  astute  fisherman  di- 
vined what  was  passing  in  his  companion's 
mind.  He  felt  that  her  homecoming  brought 
vividly  before  her  the  trouble  she  had  passed 
through,  in  sad  contrast  with  the  happy,  peace- 
ful hours  of  girlhood.  He  further  surmised  that, 
with  her  regret,  there  was  mingled  a  dread  of 
meeting  the  prying,  inquisitive  friends  of  former 
years.  He  knew  that  her  return  would  be  a  topic 
of  gossip  in  the  village  for  days  to  come,  and 
his  mouth  was  firmly  set  as  he  thought  of  the 
vicious  speculation  that  her  homecoming  would 
occasion. 

He  did  not,  however,  give  her  time  to  dwell 
on  the  false  position  in  which  she  placed  herself, 
and  rattled  on,  from  the  latest  village  news,  to 
Millie's  joy  at  seeing  her  again. 

Hester  understood,  and  smiled  affectionately 
at  his  almost  childlike  attempt  to  appear  natural 
and  unconcerned.  Her  heart  went  out  to  him, 
and  tears  glistened  in  her  eyes  as  she  thought 
of  his  loyalty  and  perfect  trust  in  her. 

235 


236  Hester  Blair 

Millie  met  them  at  the  door  and  folded  Hester 
in  her  arms,  while  the  tears  streamed  down  her 
withered  cheeks.  She  did  not  attempt  to  speak, 
— she  could  not;  but  led  Hester  into  the  well- 
lighted  dining  room  and,  holding  her  close, 
looked  at  her  through  her  tears. 

"  Yer  ain't  changed  much,  Hessie  dear,"  she 
said  when  she  could  control  her  voice,  "  but  yer 
be  a  little  thin." 

She  scanned  Hester's  features  closely,  and  the 
reassuring  smile  she  received  in  return  did  not 
wholly  suffice  to  allay  her  fears.  "  Are  you 
quite  well,  Hessie  dear?  "  she  asked. 

"  Quite,"  answered  Hester,  "  only  I  need  a 
little  rest  after  the  long  journey.  Now  tell  me, 
Millie  dear,  how  you  have  been?  " 

"  O,  I  were  so  lonesome,"  answered  the  warm 
hearted  spinster,  and  the  tears  gushed  forth 
again  as  evidence  of  the  truth  of  her  assertion. 
Recovering  her  composure,  the  sight  of  the  well- 
filled  table  reminded  her  of  Hester's  needs. 
"  Hessie,  yer  be  hungry,  ben't  yer,  dear?  " 

Hester  well  knew  that,  to  gladen  Millie's  heart, 
she  must  eat,  which  she  accordingly  did,  with  a 
relish.  This  was  the  highest  compliment  she 
could  pay  to  the  tender  hearted  spinster,  who 
hung  over  her  and  helped  her  to  the  little  deli- 
cacies that  she  had  prepared.  With  gentle,  lov- 
ing touches  Millie  arranged  the  collar  of  Hester's 
dress,  replaced  a  lock  of  hair  that  had  become 
loosened,  patting  her  head,  meanwhile,  with 


Hester's  Homecoming  237 

nervous  little  touches,  which  brought  back  her 
motherly  smile ;  and  before  the  meal  was  finished 
their  former  peaceful  existence  had  been  re- 
sumed, where  it  had  been  interrupted  by  Hester's 
departure  for  New  York. 

Millie's  face  beamed  with  the  joy  that  filled 
her,  and  a  sense  of  peace  filled  Hester's  heart 
with  a  warmth,  new  and  strange.  For  the  first 
time  in  months  a  feeling  of  security,  that  the 
atmosphere  of  her  old  home  awakened,  stole  over 
her ;  and  the  feeling  of  dread  of  her  homecoming 
that  had  filled  her  heart,  gave  place  to  a  delicious 
sensation  of  ease  and  peaceful  content. 

Millie  seated  herself  at  the  table  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  beautiful  face  before  her.  Hester's 
cheeks  were  diffused  with  a  soft  color,  and  her 
eyes  shone  with  a  brilliancy  which  reflected  her 
happiness.  Her  beauty  had  never  attracted  Mil- 
lie as  it  did  now.  The  light  from  a  shaded  lamp 
threw  a  soft,  mellow  glow  upon  Hester's  features ; 
and  the  gloating  eyes  of  the  spinster  took  in  every 
line  of  the  exquisitely  moulded  face  before  her. 
Her  eyes  told  what  her  tongue  could  not  say, 
and  she  nodded  her  head  with  conscious  satis- 
faction not  unmixed  with  pride. 

"  Hessie,"  she  said,  "  yer  don't  know  how  glad 
I  am  ter  hev  yer  at  hum  agin." 

"  Yes  I  do,  Millie  dear,"  laughed  Hester,  "  for 
I  judge  your  feelings  by  my  own  delight  at  being 
here." 

"  An'  I'm  so  glad  yer've  come,  an'  ken  tell  every- 


238  Hester  Blair 

one  tiow  well  yerVe  done.  Slack's  only  tole  half 
ef  it — where  be  the  pesky  critter? "  she  ex- 
claimed, looking  around  the  room, — "  ef  he  ain't 
gone  agin!  Do  you  believe  it,  Hessie  dear,  I 
can't  keep  track  ef  that  man,  more'n  I  can  keep 
track  o'  the  wind  on  a  March  day.  Since  he  got 
hum  from  New  York  I  kin  do  nothin'  with  'im  at 
all.  It  wer'  days  arter  he  got  back  afore  I  could 
wring  anything  out  er  him  'cept :  (  Hessie  be  a 
doin'  fust  rate,  an'  she's  well,'  same's  I  didn't 
know  thet  afore  he  went  therV' 

Hester  smiled  encouragingly.  Millie  wiped  her 
spectacles  on  the  corner  of  her  apron  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  He  sez  thet  every  night  he  wer'  in  New  York, 
he  tended  the  Salvation  Army  meetings."  Millie 
paused  expectantly.  That  she  was  not  wholly 
convinced  that  such  was  a  fact,  was  apparent. 
Hester  ventured  nothing  to  the  contrary,  but  the 
suspicion  of  a  smile  played  about  the  corners 
of  her  mouth.  Before  it  could  be  noticed  by  her 
companion,  it  was  followed  by  an  expression  of 
calm  interest.  Millie  continued : 

"  Yer  don't  know  how  I  fretted  'bout  'im  when 
he  wer'  away.  Yer  know,  Hessie  dear,  he's  no 
more  fit  ter  take  keer  o'  himself,  than  a  three- 
year-old  child.'? 

This  was  too  much  for  Hester's  self-control, 
and  she  laughed  softly  as  she  thought  of  Slack's 
encounter  with  the  coachman ;  and  various  little 


Hester's  Homecoming  239 

tales  of  his  exploits  that  Featherly  never  tired  of 
reciting. 

"  I  don't  wonder  yer  laugh,"  said  Millie  in  a 
resigned  tone,  "  fer  yer  know  as  well  as  I  do  thet 
he's  not  fit  ter  go  ter  thet  awful  city,  leastwise, 
'thout  someone  ter  look  out  fer  'im." 

Hester  nodded,  and  Millie  continued : 

"  I  ast  'im  ef  he  went  inside  o'  one  o'  them 
horrid  theatres,  an'  he  said,  '  Millie,  yer  know  I 
wouldn't  tell  yer  a  lie,'  an'  I  know  he  wouldn't," 
asserted  Millie  with  a  positive  shake  of  her  head, 
"  or  'twould  be  the  last  one  he'd  ever  tell  me. 
Well,  when  I  ast  'im  ef  he'd  been  ter  one  o'  them 
wicked  places,  he  jest  looked  at  me,  an'  sez,  '  Mil- 
lie, I'd  as  soon  go  ter  one  o'  them  theatres  as  ter 
fight,'  an'  I  know  he  never  fit  anyone  in  his  life. 
He  said  thet  Mr.  Featherly  treated  'im  real  kind, 
an'  the  servants  wer'  jest  like  hum  people.  Why 
he  said  he  felt  real  sorry  at  partin'  from  the 
coachman,  an'  ef  he  knowed  where  ter  send  'im 
word,  he'd  write  'im  ter  come  ter  Norton  ter  stay 
a  spell." 

At  that  moment  the  subject  of  Millie's  remarks 
entered  the  room. 

Hester  smiled  as  she  looked  at  the  muscular, 
shambling  form  of  the  fisherman.  Millie's  scorn- 
ful glance  was  met  with  one  of  calm  concern. 

"  Now  where've  yer  bin?  "  asked  Millie  testily. 

"  Puttin'  up  th'  hoss,"  Slack  quietly  answered. 

«  Take  yer  all  this  time?  " 


240  Hester  Blair 

"  No,"  came  the  laconic  reply. 

"  What  yer  ben  doin'?  " 

A  knock  at  the  door,  followed  by  John's  en 
trance,  interrupted  Slack's  answer.  Hester 
greeted  John  warmly. 

"  We  didn't  expect  you  until  to-morrow,"  he 
said. 

"  It  was  my  intention  to  come  to-morrow,  but 
I  was  anxious  to  get  home;  besides  there  was 
no  necessity  for  remaining  longer  in  New  York. 

"  If  I  had  known  of  your  coming,  I  would 
have  been  at  the  station  to  meet  you." 

"  Slack  was  there." 

"  Yes,  so  he  told  me,"  answered  John. 

"  So  thet's  where  yer've  bin  sense  yer  got  back 
from  th'  depot,"  said  Millie  in  a  mollified  tone. 

"  How  did  it  happen  that  you  went  to  the 
station,  Slack?  "  asked  John. 

"  Gosh !  I  don'  know,"  answered  Slack,  "  jest 
ter  kill  time,  I  reckon.  Never  wer'  so  surprised 
as  when  I  see  Hessie  get  off  the  train." 

The  talk  drifted  to  village  affairs.  Both  men 
refrained  from  mentioning  Fenton's  name.  John 
did  not  wish  to  cause  Hester  the  annoyance  that 
the  knowledge  of  Fenton's  arrival  would  oc- 
casion; and  Slack,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  ap- 
peared to  be  wholly  unconscious  of  it.  Regarding 
what  had  become  of  Fenton,  the  wily  fisherman 
had  no  intention  of  taking  John  into  his  confi- 
dence. John  would  be  the  first  to  be  suspected 
by  Fenton,  and  Slack  was  determined  that  John 


Hester's  Homecoming  241 

should  know  nothing  of  the  affair,  and  be  able 
to  face  Fenton's  accusation  with  a  clear  con- 
science. 

Hester  and  John  went  into  the  adjoining  room, 
and  sitting  beside  the  fire,  that  burned  cheerily 
in  the  open  grate,  conversed  in  low  tones.  They 
were  not  entirely  at  ease  in  the  presence  of  Mil- 
lie and  Slack,  and  their  attempt  to  appear 
natural,  was  not  wholly  successful.  The  fisher- 
man observed  their  embarrassment,  but  by 
neither  word  nor  action  did  he  betray  that  he 
saw  it.  He  went  about  the  house  in  his  accus- 
tomed way,  devoting  his  time  to  Millie,  and  re- 
ceiving her  rebuffs  in  his  usual  placid,  good- 
natured  manner. 

Hester  and  John  kept  up  a  desultory  attempt 
at  conversation.  They  avoided  all  reference  to 
New  York;  each  feeling  a  gloomy  repugnance  to 
call  up  memories  that  brought  vividly  before 
them  what  they  had  gone  through.  For  the  same 
reason,  John  refrained  from  referring  to  the 
future,  which  offered  to  Hester  humiliation  that 
she  would  feel  even  more  keenly  than  that  to 
which  she  had  already  been  subjected.  He  rea- 
lized that  she  must  meet  the  townspeople  daily. 
These  he  divided  into  two  classes; — one  class 
that  would  openly  slight  her,  the  other — through 
mistaken  zeal — force  upon  her  an  oppressive, 
patronizing  friendliness  that  would  be  prompted 
by  pity.  The  latter  would,  he  well  knew,  cause 
Hester  the  most  annoyance.  She  could  hold  her- 


242  Hester  Blair 

self  aloof  from  those  who  would  make  no  at- 
tempt to  disguise  their  feelings  toward  her— rher 
pride  would  sustain  her;  but  she  would  be  de- 
fenceless when  confronted  with  a  pity  that  im- 
plied guilt. 

There  are  troubles  that  friends  or  lovers  can- 
not speak  of  freely,  that  seem  beyond  mending, 
and  are  hopeless;  and  they  both  felt  that  words 
would  only  add  to  their  discomfiture,  and  were 
best  left  unsaid. 

It  was  John's  desire  that  she  should  lose  no 
time  in  being  seen  in  the  village.  He  argued — 
and  with  reason —  that  the  sooner  the  ordeal  was 
over,  the  better.  Though  but  a  few  hours  since 
Fenton's  arrival,  John  feared  that  he  had  al- 
ready made  known  the  events  that  had  taken 
place  the  night  of  Featherly's  death.  He  had 
heard  whispered  comments  in  the  village  that 
left  no  doubt  in  his  mind  that  Fenton's  purpose 
in  coming  to  Norton  was  to  continue  his  perse- 
cution of  Hester,  and  ruin  her  in  the  eyes  of  the 
townspeople.  After  a  desultory  attempt  at  con- 
versation, John  asked : 

"  You  will  go  to  church  to-morrow,  Hester?  " 

"  I  had  quite  forgotten  the  day  of  the  week/' 
she  answered.  "  I  would  dearly  love  to  go,  but 
I  dread  it" 

"  Nonsense,"  he  replied,  "  I  shall  call  for  you 
at  ten  o'clock.  Of  course  Millie  and  Slack  will 
go.  We  will  go  together." 

Hester  smiled.     She  understood  his  purpose, 


Hester's  Homecoming  243 

but  did  not  reply.  It  was  as  well,  she  thought, 
to  have  it  over.  It  was  perhaps  better  that  she 
should  accustom  herself  to  the  changed  relations 
between  the  townspeople  and  herself.  Surely 
the  friends  that  had  known  her  from  childhood, 
that  had  known  her  father,  would  not  believe  ill 
of  her;  and  the  consciousness  that  she  was  in- 
nocent of  wrong-doing,  gave  her  new  courage. 
With  an  attempt  at  cheerfulness  she  said : 

"  John  dear,  I  blame  myself  for  giving  way  in 
this  almost  childish  manner,  and  taking  such  a 
gloomy  view  of  life,  when  there  is  so  much  suffer- 
ing in  the  world — actual,  physical  suffering.  One 
cannot  change  the  conditions,  but  each  of  us  can 
do  his  share  to  relieve  and  better  them.  We 
magnify  our  own  trouble  a  thousand-fold,  and 
come  to  believe  that  ours  is  the  greatest  burden 
to  bear.  I  never  realized  until  the  last  few 
months  that  Heaven  had  given  me  much  to  be 
thankful  for — the  love  of  friends  that  is  a  world 
of  happiness  in  itself." 

John's  big,  brown  hand  patted  hers  lovingly. 
He  did  not  speak;  and  the  fire  shot  forth  little 
tongues  of  flame,  that  danced  merrily  to  the 
music  of  crackling  logs,  sending  a  riotous  flood 
of  shadows  over  the  walls  and  ceiling.  Millie's 
voice  came  through  the  open  door. 

"  Yer  needn't  tell  me,"  she  was  saying,  "what 
yer  got  ter  do  ter-morrer; — yer  goin'  ter  church. 
The  work'll  wait.  Enyone's  religious  as  you  wer> 
in  New  York,  wants  ter  practise  it  ter  hum." 


244  Hester    Blair 

"  Yes,  that's  so,"  Slack  replied  dubiously,  "  but 
yer  see,  I  lived  up  to  it  ther'  so  well,  I  kinder 
thought  'twould  do  fer  th'  hull  year.  Ther's  such 
a  thing,  Millie,  es  bein'  too  religious.  Now 
Deacon  Prouty  sez " 

"  No  matter  what  Deacon  Prouty  sez,"  came 
the  uncomforting  reply.  "  Yer'll  go  ter  church 
ter-morrer  mornin'."  As  the  decision  admitted 
of  no  appeal,  silence  followed. 

"  Dear  Millie !  "  Hester's  voice  was  tenderly 
soft.  After  a  pause  she  smiled  and  continued: 
"  What  would  she  say  to  some  of  Slack's  doings 
in  New  York?  " 

"  She  will  never  know  from  him,"  John  said. 

"  Nor  from  me,"  Hester  rejoined. 

A  silence  followed,  broken  by  Hester. 

"  Mrs.  Pendleton  discovered  that  I  was  to  re- 
turn home  and  came  to  see  me.  She  is  coming 
here  for  the  summer,  and  earlier  than  usual. 
She's  a  dear  soul,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  her 
with  me." 

"  And  you  will  have  the  summer  boarders  as 
usual?" 

"  Yes,  I  must  on  Ethel's  account." 

John  walked  about  the  room  impatiently. 

"  Ah  me ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  and  I  have  been 
offered  the  position  of  manager  by  the  Dean  Ship 
Company,  with  double  my  present  salary,  to 
represent  the  company  in  South  America.  Things 
come  your  way  with  indecent  haste,  when  you 
are  apathetic  or  don't  care  for  them.  In  this  life 


Hester's  Homecoming  245 

we  are  forever  reaching  for  the  unattainable, 
overlooking  the  opportunities  under  our  very 
nose,  or,  what  is  still  worse,  trampling  them 
under  foot.  We  are  a  nation  of  malcontents, 
whose  goal  is  a  mirage  from  which  we  are  sepa- 
rated by  seas  of  disappointment  and  despair." 

"  And  you  will  accept  the  position?  "  Hester's 
voice  was  tremulous. 

"  I  can't  say,"  he  answered,  "  my  uncle  is  urg- 
ing me  to  accept  it.  It  is  a  flattering  offer." 

John's  devotion  had  never  affected  her  as  it 
did  now;  nor  had  it  been  brought  home  to  her 
what  her  life  would  be  if  he  were  to  go  out  of  it. 
Until  the  possibility  that  he  might  go  presented 
itself,  she  had  never  considered  what  that  going 
might  mean.  And  now  the  fear  filled  her  with 
sickening  dread.  Yet  was  it  not  better  so?  What 
hope  could  she  give  him?  Young  as  she  was,  in- 
experienced though  she  might  seem,  she  knew  the 
world.  She  had  learned  at  a  rapid  rate,  and  at 
an  almost  fatal  cost,  that  it  is  not  to  be  trifled 
with.  It  has  its  unwritten  laws,  which  once 
transgressed,  allows  neither  time  nor  tears  to 
soften  the  punishment  it  imposes.  It  exacts  its 
pound  of  flesh,  and  jealousy  scans  the  weight  to 
see  that  it  is  not  cheated  out  of  its  just  due.  Its 
scourging  wrath  may  slumber,  but  the  ghost  of 
the  offence  stalks  abroad  and  confronts  the  of- 
fender who,  with  a  sense  of  security,  is  emerging 
from  dread  and  fear  and  dares  to  raise  his  head. 

Hester  realized  that  the  name  that  she  had 


246  Hester  Blair 

brought  back  to  her  old  home  had  been,  in  the 
eyes  of  this  same  exacting  world,  soiled.  This 
same  world  did  not  demand  the  why  or  the  where- 
fore; it  might  have  been  smirched  with  or  with- 
out reason;  in  truth  or  in  seeming.  With  these 
considerations  it  did  not  concern  itself;  nor  was 
it  inclined  to  tax  its  reasoning  powers  in  arriv- 
ing at  its  own  sweet,  infallible  verdict.  It  be- 
lieved what  it  had  been  told,  and  repeated  this 
same,  sotto  voce,  taking  care  that  it  lost  noth- 
ing in  the  telling. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

MILLIE  SPEAKS  HER  MIND 

In  strident  tones  they  sing1  His  praise, 

With  heads  held  high  in  air; 
Twere  better  if  their  hearts  they'd  raise, 

In  meek  and  voiceless  prayer. 

THE  calm  of  the  New  England  Sunday  morn- 
ing was  broken  only  by  the  clanging  of 
the  village  church  bell ;  and  the  land  in  its 
spring  dress  looked  its  loveliest.  Dandelion  blos- 
soms nodded  their  heads  complacently,  and  the 
few  hardy  flowers  in  front  of  the  Blair  home  that, 
with  admirable  persistence  if  not  commendable 
judgment,  dared  to  brave  the  chill  wind,  opened 
their  petals  in  welcome  to  the  warmth  that  the 
sun  grudgingly  bestowed.  Even  the  sea  was  on 
its  good  behavior;  and  not  even  a  ripple  dis- 
turbed its  surface  or  interrupted  the  peace  that 
was  abroad. 

John  Gary  had  been  invited  to  breakfast,  and 
Millie  was  fretting  herself  into  a  state  of  irri- 
tability over  her  muffins.  They  would  rise,  and 
then  she  was  as  sure  that  they  wouldn't  rise. 
The  exact  state  and  life  of  the  baking  powder 
worried  her,  until  she  could  not  express  herself 
in  becoming  terms.  She  had  bought  it  only  the 
day  previous,  "  but,"  she  moaned,  "  goodness 

247 


248  Hester   Blair 

knows  how  long  it  had  stood  in  Deacon  Prouty's 
store."  She  thought  the  cover  was  loose  when 
she  took  it  off;  and  now  she  was  sure  that  the 
powder  was  damp.  In  spite  of  her  fears  and 
lamentations  the  muffins  continued  to  rise  most 
beautifully.  But  peace  was  to  be  denied  her. 
What  if  they  should  fall?  She  knew  the  fire 
wasn't  hot  enough.  But  the  muffins  cooked  into 
a  creamy  brown,  and  demanded  almost  audibly, 
to  be  eaten  at  once.  "  Where  was  John?  Had 
that  Slack  gone  off  just  as  breakfast  was  ready?  " 
Not  even  Hester  could  enlighten  her,  and  in  a 
shrill  voice  she  called  from  the  porch  — "  Break- 
fast!" 

The  two  men  were  in  the  rear  of  the  house  and 
did  not  hear  the  call.  John  was  saying: 

" and  is  that  his  boat?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Slack,  shading  his  eyes  with 
one  hand  and  looking  out  over  the  water,  "  thet 
one  layin'  long  side  Bill  Blake's  schooner." 

His  gaze  turned  seaward  and  he  muttered  mus- 
ingly, "  Wonder  what  thet  steamer  be?  She's 
kitin'  right  'long." 

John's  interest  in  the  passing  steamer  was  not 
pronounced. 

"  Did  you  say  you  saw  Fen  ton?" 

"  Yes,  I  seed  'im."  Slack's  eyes  still  followed 
the  line  of  smoke  on  the  horizon. 

"  Where?  "  John  demanded. 

"  O,  'round  th'  wharf  som'ere." 

"  What  was  he  doin'?  " 


Millie  Speaks  Her  Mind          249 

"  Wall,  th'  last  I  seed  uv  'im  he  wer'  smokin* 
a  cig'rette,  an'  mutterin'  ter  hisself  soraethin' 
'bout  'inirin'  someone  er  other."  With  deep 
concern  he  continued :  "  Gum !  I'd  like  ter  know 
where  thet  ther'  steamer's  bound.  Com'  ter 
think  on't,  I  heered  someone  say  thet  Fenton 
warn't  goin'  ter  be  in  town  ter  day." 

A  sigh  of  relief  escaped  John.  He  kicked  a 
stone,  and  it  went  bounding  down  the  incline 
into  the  water,  then  looked  again  into  the  face 
of  his  companion.  Slack,  however,  seemed  un- 
conscious of  John's  presence,  so  absorbed  was  he 
in  the  movements  of  the  steamer. 

"  Where  did  you  hear  that  Fenton  wasn't  to 
be  in  town?  " 

"  I  was  in  my  boat,"  came  the  guileless  answer. 

"  When  was  this?  " 

"  Yest'day  arternoon." 

"  Were  you  alone?  " 

"  Yep,  on'y  when  I  wer'  talkin'  ter  Bill  Blake." 

"  Where  were  you  at  the  time  you  heard  of 
Fenton  being  away?  " 

"  I  wer'  a  lyin'  'long  side  of  Bill's  schooner,  a 
talkin'  ter  Bill.  Don't  know  how  I  came  ter 
'member  it.  Thet  steamer  must  be  makin'  'bout 
ten  knots." 

John  remained  silent  for  a  full  minute.  How 
much  Slack  knew  or  suspected  of  Fenton's  mo- 
tives* he  could  only  surmise.  But  he  knew  his 
man :  he  had  tried  him  and  he  trusted  him ;  and 
determined  to  take  him — in  a  measure — into  his 


250  Hester    Blair 

confidence.  He  laid  his  hand  on  hie  companion's 
shoulder : 

"  Slack,"  he  said,  "  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of 
you." 

"  Well,  sail  in.    What  be  it?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  find  out,  if  you  can  without  ex- 
citing suspicion,  where  Fenton  has  gone,  and 
when  he  will  return." 

Greater  men  than  Slack  have  been  taken  off 
their  guard.  Long  afterwards  he  reproached  him- 
self for  his  quick  tongue.  He  blurted  out: 

"  I  know  where  he  is.  He's  as  safe  as  a  lobster 
caught  in  one  o'  them  ther'  traps  out  in  th'  bay." 

It  hardly  needed  the  surprised  look  that  John 
flashed  at  him  to  tell  him  he  had  blundered.  But 
the  resourceful  Slack  was  quick  to  recover  him- 
self. A  look  of  guile,  stupendous  in  its  effron- 
tery, overspread  his  features.  The  innocence  of 
childhood  shone  from  the  eyes  that  sought  those 
of  his  companion. 

"  Thet  is,"  Slack  drawled,  "  I  guess  we  could 
find  him  ef  yer  wanted  ter  see  'im  bad."  He 
looked  John  steadily  in  the  eyes  and  waited  for 
an  answer. 

"  I  supposed  from  what  you  said,  that  you 
knew  where  Fenton  was." 

"  Me?  How'd  I  know?  Yer  see,  I'm  'lone  so 
much,  I  git  in  th'  habit  er  talkin'  ter  myself. 
Why,  I  talk  ter  th'  fishes  an'  th'  sea  gulls.  •  Yer 
don't  want  ter  take  any  notice  er  me ;  but  ef  yer 


Millie  Speaks  Her  Mind          251 

tryin'  ter  find  out  where  Fenton  is,  I  ken  'quire 
er  Bill  Blake.  PVaps  he'll  know." 

Millie's  voice  interrupted  further  conversa- 
tion, and  the  two  men  entered  the  house  with  the 
consciousness  burning  within  them  of  having 
spoiled  the  muffins.  They  vowed  they  would  do 
penance  by  devouring  them  to  the  last  one,  which 
they  did,  without  any  perceptible  effort,  and  with 
a  keen  relish;  and  Millie  unbent  sufficiently  to 
smile  her  forgiveness. 

Slack  had  donned  his  best  suit,  Millie  was  ar- 
rayed in  a  black  satin  gown,  and,  with  Hester 
and  John,  they  walked  through  the  village  to 
the  church. 

John  had  timed  their  departure  so  that  they 
might  arrive  before  the  majority  of  the  congre- 
gation. He  had  hoped  to  save  Hester  from  what 
he  most  feared, — the  curious  gaze,  and  the  un- 
guarded or  vicious  comments  of  the  villagers. 
Of  those  whom  they  met  on  their  way  to  church, 
some  passed  with  a  nod  of  the  head,  others 
stopped  and  shook  Hester  by  the  hand,  express- 
ing pleasure  at  her  return.  These  had  been  her 
father's  friends,  men  prominent  in  the  village, 
and  the  common  fishermen  who  had  known  her 
since  childhood ;  but  not  a  woman  took  her  hand, 
or  gave  her  more  than  a  passing  glance  of  recog- 
nition. One  or  two  turned  their  heads  away, 
not  even  replying  to  Slack's  or  Millie's  "  good 
morning." 


252  Hester  Blair 

John's  heart  was  filled  with  resentment,  and 
anger  raged  within  him.  He  thought  many  and 
unchristian-like  things;  and  a  smothered  ex- 
clamation of  disgust  escaped  him. 

Hester  received  one  hearty,  sincere  and  unaf- 
fected greeting.  Sally  Pitts  met  her  at  the  door 
of  the  church.  She  had  waited  there  for  her  and 
smiled  all  manner  of  sweet  things,  but  could  not 
say  a  word  because  she  was  choking,  mostly  with 
joy;  and  Hester's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  But 
Sally  was  not  alone:  Sam  stood  beside  her,  and 
took  the  hand  Hester  held  out  to  him. 

"  I'm  real  glad  to  see  yer,  Miss  Hessie,"  he 
said. 

Sally  insisted  on  imparting  something  of  a 
private  nature  to  Hester,  and  with  her  eyes  bub- 
bling over  with  happiness,  whispered  into  Hes- 
ter's ear :  "  Em,"  concluded  the  child,  "  every 
Sunday." 

"  What  be  yer  sayin',  Sally?  "  Sam  sheepishly 
demanded. 

"  Sally  tells  me  you  go  to  church  every  Sun- 
day," replied  Hester. 

"  Yaas,"  answered  Sam,  "  hed  a  change  er 
heart.  Regular  member  now." 

Hester  whispered  an  invitation  to  Sally  to 
come  up  to  the  house  as  soon  as  the  services  were 
over,  and  they  passed  into  the  church. 

While  Sally  and  Hester  were  talking  at  the 
door,  John  watched  the  people  narrowly.  It  left 
no  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  the  feelings  that  they 


Millie  Speaks  Her  Mind          253 

entertained;  and  his  fears  grew  with  the  rage 
that  filled  him.  He  cast  a  furtive  glance  at  Hes- 
ter, and  the  expression  of  settled  calm,  and  her 
unconsciously  proud  bearing,  quelled  his  rebel? 
lious  spirit  of  resentment. 

The  minister  read  from  John  viii,  7th  verse — 
"  He  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let  him  first 
cast  a  stone  at  her." 

He  spoke  eloquently,  but  he  did  not  enlist  the 
undivided  attention  of  the  congregation.  In  his 
words  they  saw  a  direct  allusion  to  the  one  who 
engrossed  their  thoughts.  His  hearers  listened  to 
his  exhortations,  followed  his  passionate  dis- 
course, exchanged  looks  with  their  neighbors  at 
his  well  rounded  periods ;  then  fixed  their  eyes  in 
a  bold  stare  on  Hester's  face,  to  satisfy  themselves 
that  she  appreciated  the  full  import  of  his  words. 
Wherein  they  were,  if  not  over  charitable,  very 
human.  But  if  they  expected  Hester  to  betray 
the  least  sign  of  self-consciousness  that  she  was 
the  object  of  their  special  regard,  disappointment 
must  have  filled  their  Christian  hearts.  And  it 
did. 

The  villagers  did  not  approve  of  the  interest 
with  which  Hester  followed  the  minister's  words ; 
and  her  modest,  dignified  bearing,  with  a  woman's 
acumen,  they  designated  as  "  brass."  They  were 
not  to  be  fooled  by  any  New  York  airs,  and  they 
lost  no  time  in  putting  this  determination  into 
effect;  for  they  resented  what  they  termed  her 
high  handed  manner  of  "  carrying  off  things."' 


254  Hester   Blair 

They  lacked  the  knowledge  of  the  subtle  art  of  re- 
fined cruelty,  when  the  unspoken  word  carries 
with  it  the  power  of  a  knife  thrust: — when  a  re- 
mark uttered  under  the  cloak  of  assumed  friend- 
ship, or  muffled  in  a  web  of  obscure  English,  has 
the  power  that  the  insidious  smile  that  accom- 
panies it  cannot  lessen, — to  wring  the  victim's 
heart.  No,  this  was  unknown  to  them,  and  they 
went  about  humbling  Hester  in  their  own,  sweet, 
simple  way. 

The  service  ended,  these  spotless  members  of 
the  community,  comprised  of  what  is  commonly 
designated  the  "  gentler  sex,"  ambled  to  the 
green  in  front  of  the  church.  Here  was  an  un- 
contaminated  atmosphere,  and  an  opportunity  to 
ease  their  over-wrought  feelings  of  outraged  de- 
cency. They  shook  their  heads  dubiously  and  sor- 
rowfully, and  hoped,  prayed,  and  lamented  in  the 
same  breath;  and  spoke  of  an  awful  warning  to 
young  people  in  general,  and  to  village  maidens 
in  particular.  They  dilated  upon  the  snares  of 
city  life,  and  the  designing  ensnarers,  who  came 
among  them  summers  to  upset  their  peace  of 
mind ;  and  their  frills  and  furbelows  fluttered  ac- 
quiescence, while  their  owners  looked  in  all  direc- 
tions but  where  Hester  was  standing,  talking  to 
the  "  Commodore,"  who,  among  other  things  was 
saying :  "  Now  Hessie,  if  you  believe  me,  I  never 
was  so  glad  to  see  anyone  in  my  life." 

The  good  soul  should  have  gone  on  to  her  home, 
which  she  ruled  in  a  manner  befitting  her  proud 


Millie  Speaks  Her  Mind          255 

title,  or  joined  her  sisters  of  the  outraged  feel- 
ings. Hester  kissed  her  on  the  cheek.  She  be- 
lieved the  "  Commodore,"  and  a  slight,  convulsive 
twitching  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth  threat- 
ened her  composure. 

She  bade  the  "  Commodore "  good-bye,  and, 
with  John,  turned  homeward;  and  the  good  peo- 
ple who  remained  behind,  after  having  exhausted 
the  subject  of  Hester's  concerns,  returned  to  the 
threadbare  topic  of  interest  which  had  done  duty 
for  the  past  week — Betty  McDonald's  ill-fated 
marriage.  Betty  was  a  poor  domestic  without  a 
home,  and  faced  the  prospect  of  becoming  a 
charge  on  the  state  with  a  soiled  name  but  a  stout 
heart.  The  man  she  had  clung  to  through  his 
checkered  career  of  debauchery  and  idleness  had, 
at  the  last  moment,  and  without  apparent  cause, 
refused  to  marry  her :  and  he  had  left  her  to  fight 
alone  the  disgrace  and  disappointment  which 
seemed  to  be  all  that  was  left  her.  With  ill-ad- 
vised ardor  the  villagers  proffered  their  sym- 
pathy and  talked  much  of  a  just  retribution  that 
would  overtake  the  recalcitrant  Tom.  But  their 
ill-timed  suggestions  and  offers  of  assistance  were 
met  with  language  and  manner  that  arrested  their 
vicious  interest  in  Betty's  behalf.  She  could 
talk,  which  she  did ;  and  her  vocabulary  was  ex- 
tensive— also  lurid.  Her  defence  of  the  erring 
lover  was  forcible  and  couched  in  language  which 
the  dullest  could  understand.  She  said  that  the 
fault  was  hers,  and  when  she  desired  any  of  their 


256  Hester  Blair 

help  or  advice,  she  would  ask  for  it.  They  took 
her  at  her  word,  and  no  hand  or  heart  interposed 
between  her  and  the  workhouse,  and  to  those  who 
talked  the  loudest  about  lack  of  decency,  she  un- 
feelingly answered  that  they  were  as  bad  as  he 
was.  It  is  due  to  Betty  to  add  that  she  believed 
what  she  said;— and  there  the  case  rested. 

Meantime  rebellion  had  taken  possession  of  Mil- 
lie, and,  when  opposite  the  old  wharf,  Slack,  not- 
ing the  signs  of  the  approaching  storm,  sought  to 
escape.  Bill  Blake,  who  was  making  his  boat 
fast  to  the  landing,  furnished  the  excuse,  and 
Slack  lingered  behind  to  speak  to  him. 

"  How's  things  go?  "  asked  Slack. 

"  Es  though  they  wer'  greased  fer  th'  occasion," 
answered  the  faithful  Bill. 

"  Fenton  put  up  a  fight?  " 

"  He  cut  up  a  bit.  Gum !  th'  roads  wer'  rough. 
Thought  we'd  shake  the  guts  out  er  'im.  Left 
'im  at  the  camp  at  two  o'clock  this  morning. 
'Twas  as  dark  as  a  pocket.  Lucky  I  had  Joe  with 
me ;  he  knew  every  inch  of  the  way." 

"  Think  Fenton'll  find  out  who  yer  air?  " 

"  No,  we  never  spoke  a  word  till  we  left  him ; 
but  you  shud  er  heered  the  cuss  swear.  He  ripped 
and  swore,  an'  he'd  hev  th'  law  on  us.  Ho,  ho, 
ho,  we'd  be  hung  ef  he  hed  his  say.  Slacky,  let's 
take  a  drink."  And  while  his  companion  grinned 
his  approbation  and  acceptance  of  the  invitation, 
Bill  fished  out  a  half-pint  bottle  of  prohibition 
whiskey  and,  unmindful  of  the  day  and  place, 


Millie  Speaks  Her  Mind  257 

the  two  men  finished  the  contents  of  the  bottle 
with  gurgling  ohs  and  ahs,  and  were  at  peace  with 
themselves  and  the  world. 

John  and  Hester,  followed  by  Millie,  ascended 
the  hill  to  the  Blair  home;  the  young  people  in 
silence,  Millie  vowing  vengeance  on  the  female 
portion  of  the  community. 

No  one  ever  dared  mention  in  the  spinster's 
presence  the  current  gossip  regarding  Hester. 
The  treatment  of  Hester  that  she  had  witnessed 
in  the  church,  was  the  effect  of  a  cause  of  which 
she  was  wholly  ignorant.  It  was  inexplicable  to 
her,  but  that  only  tended  to  increase  her  wrath, 
and,  forgetting  the  minister's  words  to  which  she 
had  just  listened,  she  vowed  summary  and  dire 
vengeance  on  them,  severally  and  collectively. 
Hester's  reproving  glance  did  not  restrain  her, 
and  she  paused  half  way  up  the  hill  to  breathe. 
Her  voice  overtook  Hester  and  John  as  they 
climbed  upward. 

"  Ter  think,  Hessie,"  she  cried  between  little 
gasps  for  breath,  "  them  Robinsons  never  so  much 
as  noticed  yer,  an'  all  because  they  got  a  little 
money.  How'd  they  git  it?  I  kin  tell  yer: — 
sellin'  liquor.  Thet's  how  they  got  it.  P'r'aps 
you  don'  know  as  how  Jim  Robinson  was  taken 
up  fer  sellin'  it;  an'  your  own  father  fined  'im, 
an'  if  yer  father  hadn't  been  so  easy  with  every- 
one, Jim  Robinson'd  bin  shet  up;  an  now  will 
yer  look  at  the  airs  o'  them  women.  Good  Lor7 ! 
Tildy  Robinson  her  ter — well  there !  I  won't  say 


258  Hester    Blair 

no  more  'bout  'em !  They  ain't  worth  it.  An'  them 
Tylers!  Everyone  knows  they  got  their  money 
cheatin'  th'  guverment  on  contracts.  Jest  wait 
till  the  next  sewin'  suckle  comes,  an'  ef  I  don' 
hev  my  say  out!  Wher'  be  thet  pesky  Slack?'' 
But  the  wisdom  teeth  of  the  wary  Slack  had  long 
been  cut. 

They  entered  the  hall.  Hester  kissed  the  spin- 
ster on  the  cheek. 

"  Millie,  dear,"  she  said,  "  I'll  help  you  with 
the  lunch.  John  must  be  hungry." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

BETTY  MCDONALD'S  TANGLED  LOVE  AFFAIRS 

Two  lives. 

Unlike  they  are,  and  yet,  how  like  withal. 
Has  not  a  sland'rous  and  unthinking1  world 
Made  theirs  a  common  cause?    The  one,  endowed 
By  nature  with  such  gifts  as  Heaven  lends — - 
All  these  are  hers,  all,  all  but  peace  of  mind 
That  woos    contentment.     The  other!     Why  dwell 
Upon  those  ills  which,  born  of  viciousness, 
Defile  the  mind  and  court  oblivion. 
To  her,  poor  soul,  such  peace  as  silence  gives. 

IT  was  the  week  following  Hester's  arrival. 
Betty  McDonald  sat  beside  a  rough  table 
sewing.  The  room  where  she  worked  was 
not  inviting,  neither  was  it  comfortable; — but 
it  was  clean.  One  might  naturally  expect  to  find 
Betty  cast  down,  even  in  tears,  for  fate  had 
treated  her  unkindly.  And,  as  if  fate  had  not  ac- 
complished her  downfall  with  sufficient  thorough- 
ness and  dispatch,  the  good  people  of  the  village 
came  to  its  assistance  and  made  it  complete;  for 
she  was  ostracized,  and  left  to  face  the  situation 
as  best  she  might. 

The  door  opened  and  a  man  stepped  into  the 
room.  He  was  the  one  above  all  others  whom 
Betty  did  not  care  to  see.  She  threw  down  her 

259 


260  Hester   Blair 

work  on  the  table,  and  turned  on  him  threaten- 
ingly. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  yer  not  ter  come  here  agin?  " 
she  demanded. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  doggedly,  "  but  I  wanted 
ter  see  yer." 

"  Yer  wanted  ter  see  me,"  she  answered,  "  but 
yer  don'  want  ter  marry  me?  Haven't  yer  caused 
me  trouble  enough?  " 

"  Well,"  he  said  in  a  tone  that  he  meant  to  be 
conciliatory,  "  yer  needn't  be  so  ugly  'bout  it. 
I've  tole  yer  I'm  not  of  th'  marrin'  kind ;  but  I 
wan'ter  be  friends  with  yer." 

"  Well,  yer  can't,"  she  answered  without  pas- 
sion. "  Go,"  she  said  calmly,  pointing  to  the 
door,  "  an'  don'  come  agin.  If  yer  word  is  no 
good,  yer  company's  no  better." 

Betty  resumed  her  work,  and  plied  her  needle 
with  tireless  fingers,  until  she  was  again  inter- 
rupted by  a  knock  at  the  door.  With  a  startled 
look — for  no  one  honored  Betty  with  a  social 
call — she  opened  the  door,  and  Hester  stepped 
into  the  room. 

Betty  looked  her  surprise,  and  waited  for  her 
visitor  to  speak.  She  was  not  pleased,  and  made 
no  effort  to  disguise  the  fact.  She  was  on  the  de- 
fensive, and  the  expression  of  her  face  hardened. 
Hester  had  known  her  for  many  years  and,  not- 
withstanding Betty's  wilfulness  and  crusty  tem- 
per, believed  there  was  much  good  in  her.  She 
had  heard  Betty's  story — heard  of  her  unhappy 


Betty's  Tangled  Love  Affairs      261 

position  without  work  and  without  means,  and 
she  determined  to  make  an  effort  in  her  behalf. 

"  Well,"  said  Betty  sullenly,  "  didn't  they  tell 
yer  I  was  goin'  ter  th'  poor-house?  What  d'yer 
want  here,  ter  find  out  why  Tom  Hardy  won't 
marry  me?  "  She  laughed  mockingly,  "  yer'll  hev 
a  fine  job  of  it.  It's  none  er  yer  business !  " 

Hester  seated  herself  and,  unfastening  her 
cloak,  it  fell  from  her  shoulders  to  the  back  of  the 
chair. 

"  Betty,"  she  said  calmly,  "  I  came  to  see  if  I 
could  be  of  any  assistance  to  you." 

"  Yer  didn't !  Yer  came  here  to  preach  how 
mean  Tom  has  used  me,  and  ter  pity  me; — and 
behind  my  back  to  laugh  at  me.  That's  what  they 
all  come  fer.  Well,  yer  can't  pity  me,  for  I  don't 
want  it!  But  yer  can  laugh  all  yer  please — but 
take  care  yer  don't  laugh  when  I'm  around,  fer 
I  won't  have  it.  Yer  hear  that !  " 

Betty's  eyes  flashed  angrily.  She  cast  a  look 
of  defiance  at  her  visitor,  and  disdain  was  in  her 
eyes  and  in  her  voice.  Hester  colored,  but  an- 
swered gently: 

"  I  did  not  come  to  laugh  at  you  Betty, — I  came 
to  help  you  if  you  will  consent  to  have  me.  Won't 
you  let  me,  Betty?  " 

"  No,  I  won't !  Just  hear  that,  and  remember 
it.  I  won't.  Tom  Hardy  is  just  as  good  as  the 
man  you  had.  He  wouldn't  marry  yer  and  you 
lost  him.  Hard  luck!  an'  now  yer  back  agin! 
Ha,  ha,  ha,"  she  stopped  abruptly,  "  well,  yer 


262  Hester  Blair 

no  better'n  me,  on'y  yer  got  more  money !  No  one 
goes  ter  see  yer,  an'  they  wouldn't  look  at  yer 
when  yer  went  ter  church  last  Sunday.  O,  I 
heered  o'  it.  Thet's  where  yer  wer'  foolish.  7 
never  go  to  church,  then  they  can't  laugh  at  me." 

Her  speech  dissolved  into  harsh  laughter,  but  it 
was  her  easy  air  of  familiarity  and  mocking 
tones,  more  than  her  words,  that  stung  Hester 
like  a  whip-lash.  However,  she  was  not  there  to 
consider  her  own  feelings.  She  had  a  mission  to 
perform,  and  she  would  not  be  turned  from  it. 

"  Betty,"  said  Hester,  "  I  did  not  come  here 
to  discuss  my  concerns,  but  to  offer  you  such 
assistance  as  it  is  in  my  power  to  give.  How  can 
I  help  you,  Betty?  " 

"  Yer  can't,"  came  the  answer  doggedly. 

"  Is  it  as  bad  as  that,  Betty?  Is  there  no  hope 
that  he  will  marry  you?" 

Betty  looked  up  eagerly.  She  seemed  to  grasp 
at  the  words,  as  if  hope  were  not  dead  within 
her;  then  her  sullen  mood  returning,  she  said  in 
a  scoffing  tone:  "  What  do  you  care?  " 

"  Betty,  I  do  care.  You  used  to  trust  -me. 
Come,  Betty  dear,  let  me  try  for  the  sake  of  your 
future." 

Hester  had  touched  the  heart  spring,  and  Betty 
dissolved  into  wails,  and  wrung  her  hands  while 
the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

"  O,  it's  no  use,"  she  cried  between  her  sobs, 
"  I've  asked  him  a  hundred  times  why  he  ever 


Betty's  Tangled  Love  Affairs      263 

promised  me  if  he  didn't  mean  to  keep  it,  and 
he  always  sez  the  same  thing, — thet  he's  not  of 
th'  marrying  kind.  No,  it's  no  use,"  she  moaned. 

"  Let  me  ask  him,"  Hester  urged. 

"  You?  "  her  discordant  laugh  filled  the  room, 
and  Hester  unconsciously  shuddered.  Betty 
stopped,  but  her  eyes  still  laughed.  "  He'll  tell 
yer  ter  go  straight  ter  th'  divil." 

Hester  crossed  to  where  the  woman  sat  and 
smoothed  her  hair  gently.  This  sort  of  treatment 
was  new  to  Betty,  and  she  did  not  know  whether 
to  resent  it  or  not.  She  looked  up  into  Hester's 
face,  in  whose  eyes  she  read  a  tenderness  that 
soothed  the  rebellious  spirit  within  her. 

"  Let  me  try,"  said  Hester  gently,  "  let  me  try. 
Send  me  to  him,  Betty.  Let  me  go  to  see  him. 
Let  me  talk  with  him,  Betty  dear,  and  perhaps — 
perhaps " 

Hester's  soft  entreating  tones  again  sent  the 
tears  into  the  eyes  of  the  unfortunate  woman. 
With  Hester's  arms  about  her,  she  rocked  to  and 
fro  moaning  softly. 

"  Why  did  yer  come  here?  "  she  wailed,  "  I  wer* 
a  gettin'  used  ter  it,  an'  I  didn't  care.  An'  now 
yer  clean  upset  me.  I  don't  mind  yer  goin'  ter 
see  him,  but  it  won't  do  any  good ;  he'll  only  cuss 
at  yer.  But  yer  not  like  the  others,  an'  I  ken  trust 
yer."  She  became  calmer;  and  the  two  women, 
so  unlike,  yet  having  the  common  bond  of  the 
world's  curse  upon  them  to  (draw  them  together, 


264  Hester    Blair 

spoke  of  the  future  with  something  like  hope; 
and  their  spirits  rose  as  the  plans  that  Hester 
mapped  out  took  form. 

Hester's  mission  was  but  half  completed.  It 
was  still  early,  and  she  must  yet  see  the  man  that 
Betty  loved.  When  Betty  had  said,  "  They  were 
as  bad  as  he  was,"  she  pointedly  referred  to  the 
female  portion  of  the  village  people,  or  the  ele- 
ment which  was  clamoring  that  justice  be  done 
to  her.  It  was  more  than  probable  that  Betty  was 
right,  and  knew  whereof  she  spoke.  An  inflexible 
and  fixed  standard  of  morals  they  proclaimed  to 
the  world  was  theirs,  but  they  vaunted  their  vir- 
tue in  strident  tones,  and  with  indecent  ardor, 
which  set  you  to  thinking:  and  that  is  not  con- 
ducive to  peace  of  mind,  and  is  bad  for  the  soul, 
for — being  human — one  who  thinks  of  such 
things,  discovers  failings  in  others  that  had  their 
birth  in  his  own  heart. 

Their  own  faults  were  glaring,  perhaps  vicious ; 
but  the  men  as  a  class  were  just,  and  Tom  Hardy's 
lot  in  life  had  become  as  unbearable  as  it  was  in 
their  power  to  make  it,  and  his  treatment  of  Betty 
deserved. 

With  this  knowledge  to  fortify  her  request, 
even  the  demand  she  was  prepared  to  make,  Hes- 
ter left  Betty,  and  with  a  promise  to  return, 
sought  Tom  Hardy's  cabin.  She  entered  without 
knocking.  Tom  divined  her  errand  and  glared  at 
her  defiantly. 

"  Well,"  he  said  doggedly,  not  giving  Hester 


Betty's  Tangled  Love  Affairs      265 

time  to  speak,  "  I  know  what  yer  come  fer,  an'  it 
ain't  er  damn  bit  er  use.  I  won't  marry  'er  nor 
no  other  woman !  " 

Hester  almost  smiled.  Betty's  forecast  of  her 
reception  was  distressingly  accurate.  Undaunted 
she  replied : 

"  Tom,  you're  the  only  man  in  the  village,  or 
on  the  beach,  who  swears  in  my  presence." 

He  looked  at  her  shamefacedly.  She  had  dis- 
armed him  for  the  moment.  She  waited  for  him 
to  speak.  He  did  not  answer  and  she  continued : 

"  Tom,  do  you  think  you  have  used  Betty  fairly 
—honestly?" 

His  crest-fallen  air  encouraged  her  and  she 
pressed  her  advantage.  "  Come,  tell  me,"  she 
urged. 

"  Well,"  he  answered  with  a  growl,  "  I  can't 
help  it.  What's  th'  good  er  talkin'  about  it?  I've 
made  up  my  mind  thet  I  don't  want  ter  git  mar- 
ried. She'll  soon  get  over  it.  It's  cost  me  trouble 
enough.  The  boys  don't  give  me  a  minute's  peace 
from  one  end  of  the  week  to  the  other." 

"  They  would  be  justified  in  not  giving  you  a 
moment's  peace.  It  is  not  Betty's  fault.  She 
has  remained  silent,  for  she  loves  you — more's 
the  pity.  To  be  frank  with  you,  I  think  your 
treatment  of  her  contemptible." 

He  did  not  dispute  her.  He  had  a  faint  idea  of 
his  own  worth; — also  of  the  justice  of  her  re- 
marks. 

tf  Well,"  he  muttered  doggedly,  "  she  ain't  got 


266  Hester   Blair 

no  claim  agin  me,  an'  I  won't  marry  her,  an'  that 
settles  it." 

She  wished  to  appeal  to  the  human  side  of  his 
nature  before  resorting  to  a  more  strenuous 
course,  which  she  was  fully  determined  to  do,  if 
all  other  methods  failed  her. 

"  Tom,"  she  spoke  softly,  "  you  have  lived  a  life 
of  idleness — even  worse;  for  through  drink,  you 
have  sunk  to  as  low  a  plane  as  it  would  seem 
possible  for  a  human  being  to  reach.  You  remem- 
ber my  father?  I  know  you  do,  and  the  many 
times  his  kindness  of  heart  saved  you  from  the 
punishment  that  you  richly  deserved.  Stop  a 
moment  and  think." 

His  eyes  were  on  the  floor,  and  Hester,  noting 
the  effects  of  her  words,  continued  hurriedly: 

"  You  do  not  forget,  Tom,  you  cannot.  You  re- 
member his  words  of  encouragement,  do  you  not? 
How  he  begged  you  to  do  better,  and  how  you 
promised  him  if  he  would  give  you  one  more 
chance,  you  would  reform.  And  the  day  when, 
though  his  patience  had  long  been  exhausted, 
sooner  than  send  you  to  jail,  he  imposed  only  a 
fine.  The  payment  of  the  money  was  all  that 
could  save  you  from  imprisonment,  and  you  did 
not  have  it.  My  father  received  the  amount  of 
the  fine  that  same  night,  and  you  were  released : 
— and  to  this  day  you  have  never  learned  to  whom 
you  were  indebted. 

He  looked  up  shamefacedly,  and  eagerly 
scanned  her  features. 


Betty's  Tangled  Love  Affairs      267 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  never  knew." 

"  It  was  Betty  who  furnished  the  money,  and 
she  begged  my  father  that  you  should  never  be 
told  that  she  paid  it.  She  stood  by  you  through 
the  years  of  your  life  that  you  have  squandered. 
More,  I  know  that  she  has  given  you  every  dollar 
that  she  has  earned,  for  Tom,  she  loves  you, 
though  not  for  one  instant  are  you  worthy  of  it. 
She  believed  that  you  would  make  a  home  for 
her — she  had  a  right  to  believe  it.  And  now 
be  a  man,  Tom.  Ah!  I  know  you  will  do  what 
is  right.  Consider  your  own  happiness  and  peace 
of  mind  as  well  as  hers.  Come  with  me  now. 
Deacon  Prouty  is  a  Justice  of  Peace,  and  I  will 
be  one  of  the  witnesses  to  your  marriage." 

It  may  have  been  the  instinct  that  even  brutes 
possess  that  moved  him ;  it  may  have  been  what 
Hester  had  said.  Whatever  the  power,  without  a 
word  he  took  his  hat  from  a  nail  on  the  wall,  and 
within  the  hour,  Betty  was  made  Mrs.  Tom  Hardy 
and  the  proudest  lady  in  the  land.  And  Mrs. 
Tom,  not  content  with  quiet  bliss,  the  following 
day  flaunted  her  lord  and  master  in  the  eyes  of 
her  tormentors,  who  refused  to  be  surprised ;  and 
they  sighed  compassionately  for  Hester  who  had 
not  been  so  fortunate. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

MILLIE  ANSWERS  SLACK  FOR  THE  999TH  TIME 

Good  Lor'!     Didn't  I  tell  yer  a  few  days  ago, 

Ef  yer  ast  me  again  what  yer  answer'd  be?    No! 

JUNE  came  and  all  the  land  glowed  with  color. 
A  soft  breeze  was  abroad  and  contentment 
seemed  to  ooze  from  the  warm  soil  and  take 
possession  of  all  live  things.  The  rosebushes, 
like  a  virgin  conscious  of  her  charms,  blushed 
apologetically.  The  soft  air  drove  every  desire 
from  the  heart  of  man,  but  to  live  and  to  love. 
Even  the  sea  was  content  to  rest  from  its  long 
complaining,  and  soothed  itself  into  a  mirror- 
like  placidity.  Nature  ruled  for  peace,  and  only 
man's  innate  obstinacy  interposed  to  its  complete- 
ness. 

Ethel  had  returned  from  school  and  the  sum- 
mer guests  had  begun  to  arrive.  Mrs.  Pendleton 
had  been  the  first,  bedecked  in  gorgeous  plumage 
and  smiles.  Millie  capitulated  without  reserva- 
tion and  kissed  her,  which  led  Slack  to  do  strange 
things,  to  wit, — to  seek  the  seclusion  of  his 
shanty,  where  he  accomplished  the  remarkable 
feat  of  kicking  himself,  and  performing  strange 
and  unseemly  antics,  accompanying  the  same 
with  uproarious  laughter  that  could  be  heard  far 

268 


Millie  Answers  for  the  999th  Time     269 

over  the  water.  But  then,  surrender  on  Millie's 
part  did  not  occur  every  day  or  decade,  hence 
there  was  cause  and  excuse  for  his  unusual  be- 
havior. 

Hester's  life  had  gone  on  much  the  same  since 
her  return  home.  She  had  received  the  slights 
and  vicious  little  thrusts  offered  her  uncomplain- 
ingly, giving  in  return  kindness  and  charity.  She 
was  not  without  champions.  The  "  Commodore  " 
spoke  her  mind  freely  and  to  the  point;  and  Mil- 
lie, in  high  dudgeon,  had  severed  her  connection 
with  the  sewing  circle,  a  society  duly  organized 
by  the  church  for  charitable  purposes,  but  whose 
chief  occupation  was  the  dissemination  of  gossip, 
— rank,  flagrant,  unwholesome  gossip. 

But  polite  protests  to  the  treatment  Hester 
received  did  not  satisfy  Betty  Hardy.  She  re- 
taliated with  deftly  aimed  blows,  delivered  with 
energy  and  conviction.  When  the  character  of 
Hester's  assailants  would  warrant  it,  she  told 
things.  These  were  not  good  to  hear,  and  they 
were  for  the  most  part  true;  for  all  knowledge  of 
a  certain  kind,  and  of  unsavory  quality,  came  into 
Betty's  possession  with  remarkable  ease,  and 
without  apparent  effort  on  her  part.  Moreover, 
Betty  was  very  well  developed  physically,  and  of 
muscular  fitness ;  and  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
when  the  private  character  of  Hester's  traducer 
was,  in  truth  and  all  consciousness,  beyond  the 
reach  of  Betty's  vitriolic  tongue,  she  had  resorted 
to  the  unwomanly  course  of  using  her  fists,  which 


270  Hester   Blair 

was  not  good  to  see:  for  women's  fists  should 
not  usurp  the  prerogative  of  their  tongues.  But 
Hester  went  on  her  way  unmindful  of  it  all,  and 
contentment  was  growing  within  her. 

Of  Fenton  little  was  known.  His  yacht  would 
enter  the  harbor  and,  ghostlike,  disappear,  only 
to  return  again  at  intervals.  For  a  day  or  a  night 
he  would  be  seen  about  the  village,  then  go  as 
quietly  as  he  came,  where,  no  one  knew,  nor  did 
anyone  seem  to  care;  but  he  managed  to  keep 
alive  the  gossip  and,  bit  by  bit,  the  story  of  Hes- 
ter's life  while  in  New  York,  became  known  to 
everyone  in  the  village. 

John  divided  his  time  between  Norton  and  New 
York  City.  He  attended  to  his  duties,  watched 
over  Hester's  interests,  and  went  on  loving  her  in 
his  own  way,  with  the  hope  ever  with  him  that 
some  day  she  would  return  his  love. 

There  was  a  mysterious  something  in  the  lives 
of  the  inmates  of  the  Blair  home  that  baffled  Mil- 
lie. Hester  was  subdued,  rarely  smiled  and 
seemed  unlike  herself.  John,  when  he  called, 
was  morose  and  had  little  to  say;  and  Millie  de- 
clared that,  "  Slacky  jest  grinned  an'  acted  as 
though  he  didn't  know  nothin'  an'  kept  thet  ter 
himself."  Even  Ethel  was  imbued  with  the  gen- 
eral air  of  mystery  that  pervaded  the  household. 
She  declared  that  everyone  had  changed,  and 
seemed  unnatural ;  she  didn't  understand  it,  and 
was  ill  at  ease;  and  even  Slack  who  had  been  her 
counsellor  since  childhood,  could  not  explain 


Millie  Answers  for  the  999th  Time    271 

away  the  gloom  that  enveloped  the  family.  Prep- 
arations were  under  way  for  Ethel's  birthday 
party,  but  even  these  she  entered  into  in  a  half- 
hearted manner. 

It  was  toward  the  middle  of  the  month.  The 
rays  of  the  descending  sun  touched  the  breeze- 
fretted  surface  of  the  bay  with  amber,  gold  and 
dull  purple,  and  sent  armies  of  brilliant  gleams 
dancing  seaward.  It  was  a  time  for  love  and 
lovers,  and  Slack  and  Millie  improved  the  op- 
portunity to  sit  outside  in  the  open  space  in  front 
of  the  house.  To  Slack's  appeal  Millie  was  moved 
to  reply  with  undisguised  irritability. 

"  An'  I  tell  yer  agin,  Slack  Dorkins,  for  the 
nine  hundred  and  ninety-ninth  time,  no,  an'  no, 
an  no.  I'm  not  goin'  ter  git  married  while  things 
air  as  they  air.  Isn't  it  enough  that  they're  all 
wrong  'thout  pesterin'  me  'bout  gittin'  married?  " 

"  But,  Millie,"  he  pleaded,  "  'Twouldn't  make 
any  difference  ter  our  way  er  livin'.  I've  saved 
up  a  good  bit  in  th'  last  twenty-five  years,  an'  th> 
folks'll  never  want  fer  money.  Yer  needn't  wait 
any  longer  on  thet  account." 

Millie,  who  had  been  knitting,  paused  at  her 
work  and  rewarded  him  with  a  look  of  quizzical 
amazement. 

"  Once  in  a  while,"  she  said,  "  'bout  's  often 
as  th'  moon  changes,  you  do  say  somethin'  quite 
sensible.  It's  all  thet  keeps  me  from  losin'  pa- 
tience with  yer.  Sense  Hessie  got  back  from  New 
York  ther'  do  seem  ter  be  some  ter'ble  mystery.  I 


272  Hester    Blair 

don't  know  half  th'  time  whether  I'm  standin'  on 
my  head  er  my  heels." 

Slack  received  his  refusal  philosophically.  He 
had  been  over  the  same  ground  many  times,  and 
Millie's  answer  and  rebuff  he  listened  to  with 
smiling  complacency. 

"  John  isn't  the  same,"  Millie  continued,  as 
though  refusing  an  offer  of  marriage  was  an  every 
day  occurrence,  "  afore  he  went  ter  New  York 
ther  wern't  a  more  light-hearted  boy  'round.  Now 
yer  kin  hardly  git  a  word  out  er  him.  Even  Ethy 
is  changed.  She  don't  seem  th'  same  since  she  got 
hum  from  school.  Whatever  'tis,  is  fer  th'  best. 
The  Lord  hes  His  own  way  er  smoothin'  out 
things,  an'  I  do  believe  thet  His  way  is  the  best 
way."  And  with  this  wise  assertion  she  rose  and 
entered  the  house. 

Ethel  had  listened  to  the  last  part  of  Millie's 
remarks,  and  when  Millie  had  disappeared, 
walked  softly  to  where  Slack  was  sitting  and 
placed  her  hands  over  his  eyes. 

"  O,  I  know  who  owns  them  little  hands,"  Slack 
said  in  a  voice  as  gentle  as  the  night  breeze,  "  ther 
as  soft  as  the  robin's  breast  when  he  comes  in  the 
spring."  He  pressed  her  hands  to  the  side  of  his 
rough,  weather-beaten  face.  "  Sit  down  'side  me, 
Ethy.  D'yer  know,  yer  the  only  one  that'll  hev 
anything  ter  say  ter  old  Slacky?  Millie's  so  dern 
cranky  thet  yer  can't  go  near  her." 

Ethel  was  his  baby.  She  filled  the  heart  and 
the  life  of  this  childless  man,  and  he  bestowed 


Millie  Answers  for  the  99<?th  Time    273 

upon  her  affection,  and  almost  idolatrous  love, 
that  was  pathetic  in  its  yearning  tenderness.  So 
it  is  apt  to  be  with  one  who  is  much  alone,  or  pur- 
sues a  solitary  vocation.  The  heart's  longings 
center  on  someone, — the  heart  clinging  to  that 
one  with  doglike  fidelity  and  unreasoning  faith. 
Ethel  was  to  him  his  daughter  and  comrade,  and 
he  romped  and  played  with  her  with  the  ardor 
of  one  of  her  years.  With  her,  he  was  a  child  at 
heart,  with  a  woman's  tenderness.  Since  Ethel's 
childhood,  with  the  candor  and  trust  of  youth, 
they  had  shared  together  their  joys  and  their  sor- 
rows; and  they  were  now  conspiring  to  wring 
from  Millie  the  long  delayed  consent  to  the  fisher- 
man's suit.  To  this  end  they  were  seriously  con- 
sidering the  advisability  of  enlisting  the  sym- 
pathies and  advice  of  Mrs.  Pendleton,  for,  as 
Slacky  naively  asserted,  "  she'd  hed  experience 
and  might  give  'em  some  pints." 

To  his  mournful  reference  to  Millie,  Ethel  re- 
plied : 

"  Never  mind  Slacky,  dear,  she  loves  you,  I 
know  she  does." 

"  Maybe  she  do,  but  she  hev  a  mighty  queer  way 
er  showin'  it." 

"  She  only  feels  as  we  all  do,"  Ethel  replied, 
"  that  something  is  wrong.  Poor  dear  Hessie  I 
And  John  is  as  serious  as  if  he  had  lost  a  for- 
tune." She  sighed  and  looked  down  dejectedly. 
"  Why,  I  feel  quite  aged  myself."  Then  her  eyes 
sought  her  companion's  and  she  continued  with 


274  Hester  Blair 

animation :  "  There  is  one  who  never  changes ; 
one  who  is  as  constant  as  the  North  Star,  as 
patient  as  a  mother  with  her  first  born,  and  is 
always  cheerful;  one  whom  everybody  loves  and 
who  loves  everyone.  He  is  the  best  and  dearest 
friend  we  have  in  the  wide,  wide  world." 

"  Do  I  know  'im?    Ef  I  don't  I'd  like  ter." 

"  Yes,  you  know  him." 

"  P'r'aps  I  kin  guess  who  he  is.  How  do  he 
look?" 

"  He  is  quite  tall." 

"  Yaas." 

"  He  has  blue  eyes — a  Roman  nose — a  fierce 
looking  mouth — fuzzy  hair  that  is  never 
combed " 

"  As  bad  as  mine?  "  Slack  asked  incredulously. 

"  Just — like — yours." 

"  Same  color?  " 

"  Yes,  the  same  color." 

"  I  didn'  believe  ther  were  Another  sech  head 
er  hair  in  the  county!  Millie  sez  there  ain't. 
What's  his  name?  I  want  ter  see  thet  head  er 
hair." 

"  I'll  give  you  three  guesses." 

"  Will  yer?  Well  here  goes.  Captain  Ed- 
wards. He's  the  wust  lookin'  man  'long  shore — " 

"  No !   two  more  guesses." 

"  Seth  Binks !  He's  got  a  face  like — like " 

"  Wrong  again.     One  more  guess." 

"  Now  ther's  only  one  more  thet  I  kin  think 


Millie  Answers  for  the  999th  Time    275 

on,  an'  he's  so  homely — well  I  can't  tell  yer  how 
homely  he  is — Zeke  Newcomb." 

"  Wrong  again.  Don't  move,  Slack,  and  I'll 
show  him  to  you."  She  stood  behind  the  settle 
on  which  he  sat,  and  taking  a  small  mirror  from 
her  pocket,  with  one  hand  around  his  neck,  she 
held  the  mirror  before  him. 

"  There  he  is,"  she  said,  "  and  he  is  the  dearest, 
best,  old  Slack  in  the  world ;  and  I  wouldn't  have 
one  hair  in  his  dear  old  fuzzy  head  different  from 
what  it  is."  She  kissed  him  on  the  cheek. 

"  Ah,  Ethy  dear,  yer  th'  same  little  baby  girl 
that  I  trundled  in  my  arms.  D'yer  remember  how 
I  used  ter  wait  fer  yer  at  the  foot  uv  the  hill 
yonder  an'  carry  you  on  my  shoulders  ter  th' 
house,  an'  how  yer  used  ter  pull  old  Slack's 
hair?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  An'  I  allus  demanded  payment  for  the  ride. 
D'yer  remember  what  yer  gave  me  fer  tootin'  yer 
up  th'hill?" 

"  One  kiss  when  you  walked,  and  two  when 
you  ran  up  the  hill." 

"  Thet's  it,  Ethy  dear,  thet's  it.  An'  I  never 
wer'  so  well  paid  fer  doin'  anythin'  in  my  life. 
Them  wer'  happy  days,  little  one,  happy  days." 

"  They'll  come  again,  Slacky  dear,  they'll  come 
again.  Now  I  want  you  to  come  with  me  and  look 
at  the  flower  garden.  I'm  sure  I  saw  two  weeds 
growing  in  the  petunia  bed." 


276  Hester  Blair 

"  Did  yer?  Ther*  life  will  be  as  fleetin'  as  a 
summer  love." 

Millie  came  from  the  house,  and  casting  an  ap- 
pealing glance  at  Ethel,  settled  herself  comfort- 
ably with  her  knitting. 

"  Ethy  dear,"  she  said,  "  I'm  so  nervous,  thet 
I  don'  know  what  I'm  about  half  the  time.  Seems 
though  there  werj  a  great  black  cloud  ready  ter 
drop  on  us.  Slack  Dorkins,  will  yer  set  down? 
I  allus  said  trust  in  the  Lord.  He  does  everything 
fer  th'  best,  an'  gives  ter  them  as  is  desarvin'." 

Slack  walked  to  where  Ethel  was  standing  and, 
placing  her  between  himself  and  Millie,  spoke : 

"  Em !  Ethy  says  I'm  uv  th'  desarvin'  kind,  don' 
yer,  Ethy?  "  Receiving  an  encouraging  nod  he 
continued :  "  I've  trusted  in  the  Lord  fer  the  past 
twenty  years,  'n  I  don'  see  as  I'm  nearer  my  re- 
ward 'n  I  wus  twenty  years  ago." 

Millie  tossed  her  head  and  maintained  a  dis- 
dainful silence.  Slack  held  a  whispered  consul- 
tation with  his  ally,  and  receiving  a  gentle  push 
and  a  whispered  command  to  go  ahead,  con- 
tinued : 

"  D'yer  think,  Millie,  ef  I  wer  ter  go  on  trustin' 
in  th'  Lord,  I'd  hev  my  reward  in  this  world,  er 
would  I  hev  ter  wait  till  th'  next?  "  A  congratu- 
latory nod  from  his  fellow  conspirator,  and  an 
energetic  toss  of  the  head  from  the  enemy,  left  the 
result  of  the  last  attack  in  doubt.  Slack  con- 
tinued :  "  My  patience  has  bin  pretty  good,  don't 
yer  think  so  Millie?  Twenty  years !  " 


Millie  Answers  for  the  999th  Time    277 

A  muttered  exclamation  that  some  one  was  "  a 
pesky  nuisance,"  warned  Slack  that  conditions 
were  not  propitious,  and  he  beat  a  hasty  retreat 
in  the  direction  of  his  shanty,  beckoning  to  his 
fellow  comrade-in-arms  to  continue  the  assault. 

An  owl  heralded  the  deepening  twilight  with  a 
discordant  screech;  and  the  lights  from  the  vil- 
lage flickered  in  feeble  response  to  the  call.  The 
sea  was  singing  its  night  song.  The  crescent- 
rimmed  moon  hung  in  the  western  sky  and  dipped 
into  the  sea,  and  the  stars  emboldened  by  its  im- 
potent youth,  blinked  a  merry  good-night,  and 
shone  with  proud  and  unrivaled  brilliancy.  That 
little  night  prowler,  Sally  Pitts,  having  entered 
the  house  from  the  rear,  and  finding  it  deserted, 
came  through  the  front  door,  cuddled  herself  at 
Millie's  feet,  and  laughed  riotously.  As  if  Heaven 
had  ordained  that  peace  were  to  be  denied  the 
spinster,  Sally  asked :  "  Aunt  Milly,  why  don't 
you  marry  Slack?  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

JOHN  FIGHTS  FOR  THE  WOMAN  HE  LOVES 

No  sword,  no  shield,  no  armor  bright, 

No  trophies  for  the  victor  wait; 
No  prancing  steed  bears  war-like  knight, 

Bedecked  with  gaudy  pomp  of  state. 
Yet  never  cause  more  holy,  just — 

Nor  one  to  lend  the  victor  fame. 
Ere  this,  have  heroes  bitten  dust, 

For  the  honor  of  a  woman's  name. 

THE  last  week  of  June  came,  leaving  events 
behind  to  resolve  themselves  into  history 
as  best  they  might.  The  summer  guests 
had  arrived  in  numbers,  and  a  holiday  air  was 
abroad. 

Life  for  Hester  was  becoming  less  burdensome, 
and  the  work  that  she  found  to  do  among  the  poor 
of  the  village,  occupied  her  time  not  devoted  to 
the  care  and  comfort  of  the  summer  boarders. 

Every  incident  in  the  daily  life  of  the  villagers 
was  fastened  upon  to  do  duty  as  a  topic  for  gos- 
sip, and  they  ceased  their  open  manifestations 
of  disapproval  and  censure  of  Hester's  conduct, 
as  their  interest  waned.  They  received  her  with 
tolerance,  never  allowing  her,  however,  to  forget 
that  their  sufferance  was  tentative ;  and  this  they 
brought  home  to  her  in  little  ways  that  only  a 
woman  can  devise.  Still,  she  was  satisfied  to 

278 


John  Fights  for  the  Woman  He  Loves  279 

work,  and  in  her  own  way  to  fulfil  the  life  that 
destiny  had  willed  to  her. 

Love  never  grows  old  by  waiting,  and  Gary's 
love  fed  on  a  yearning  desire  and  a  hope  that 
would  not  die.  Again  and  again  he  had  put  off 
his  answer  to  his  uncle's  importunities  that  he 
should  accept  the  position  in  South  America, 
giving  always  the  same  reason  for  delay — he  had 
not  had  sufficient  time  to  consider  it.  He  did  not 
press  his  suit  with  Hester,  for  he  knew  that 
shame  and  sorrow  hung  heavy  upon  her,  and  he 
felt  that  she  would  not  consent  that  he  should 
share  her  burden  with  her.  He  knew  her  unself- 
ish nature, — knew  that  the  treatment  she  had  re- 
ceived at  the  hands  of  those  who  should  have 
trusted  her,  stood  between  them.  Yet,  still  he 
hoped,  and  hoping,  waited;  and  a  savage  resent- 
ment against  a  debasing  world  grew  within  him. 

Sam  Pitts  had  plunged  into  the  maelstrom  of 
commerce,  and,  in  an  old  boat-house  standing  be- 
side the  wharf,  was  making  a  modest  bid  for  a 
share  of  the  patronage  that  Deacon  Prouty 
claimed  as  his  own.  Sam's  stock  of  goods  was 
comprised,  for  the  greater  part,  of  fishing  tackle 
and  groceries  of  the  dried  and  tinned  variety; 
and  Sally,  in  her  father's  absence,  served  the 
customers,  and  tried  to  appear  very  matronly  and 
business-like. 

It  was  early  evening  and  Sally  was  alone  in  the 
store.  Through  the  large  window  that  opened 
on  the  water  side,  threatening  clouds  could  be 


280  Hester    Blair 

seen  scudding  across  a  leaden  sky.  The  air  was 
sultry,  and  a  distant  flash  of  lightning  turned  the 
bay  into  a  sheet  of  flame.  The  door  was  ajar  and 
Hester  entered. 

"  My !  Miss  Hester,"  said  Sally,  "  how  you 
scared  me!  Do  you  think  we'll  have  a  thunder 
storm?" 

"  No,"  Hester  replied  seating  herself  beside 
her.  "  It's  heat  lightning.  I  don't  believe  it  will 
storm." 

"  I  love  to  see  it.    Don't  you?    I'm  not  afraid." 

Hester  smiled.  It  was  like  Sally  to  love  a  tem- 
pest. As  for  fear,  that  was  beyond  her.  The 
gathering  gloom  seemed  to  intensify  the  pallor  of 
the  child's  face,  and  her  eyes,  as  she  looked  up  at 
Hester,  shone  like  sapphires  set  in  gray-white 
marble.  She  tried  in  her  youthful  way  to  read 
what  was  written  on  the  face  that  looked  sadly 
down  upon  her,  but  her  judgment  was  guided  by 
instinct,  not  experience.  Sally  was  endowed  by 
a  depth  of  thought,  and  a  discernment  far  beyond 
her  years,  and  in  Hester's  expression  the  child 
read  a  studied  calm,  that  was  tinged  with  the 
shadow  of  melancholy.  Hester's  smile  did  not 
deceive  her — it  lacked  the  candor,  the  flashes  of 
merriment  when  the  heart  speaks.  However 
much  it  deceived  or  escaped  notice  in  others,  it 
worried  Sally,  who  saw,  and  did  not  understand, 
and  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  Hester's  face  in  an  in- 
quiring gaze,  she  tried  to  divine  the  cause  that 
had  wrought  the  change. 


John  Fights  for  the  Woman  He  Loves  281 

"  Miss  Hester,  aren't  you  always  happy?  "  she 
asked  with  the  directness  of  childhood. 

"  Not  always,  Sally  dear." 

It  was  the  smile  that  accompanied  the  words 
that  Sally  could  not  fathom. 

"  Why  aren't  you  happy?  Is  it  because 
you  have  lost  something? "  Sally's  thoughts 
were  fixed  upon  a  piece  of  paper  sewed  into 
a  little  cloth  bag  that  she  wore  around  her 
neck. 

"  It  is  not  for  what  I  have  lost,  Sally  dear,  but 
you  would  hardly  understand  even  were  I  to  tell 
you.  There  are  sorrows  and  troubles  that  you 
know  nothing  of,  and  I  trust  you  never  shall ! " 
Hester  pressed  her  cheek  to  Sally's,  and  her  arm, 
that  was  around  the  child,  held  her  close.  "  I 
wouldn't  wish  you  to  suffer,"  she  continued,  "  but 
I  envy  you  Sally." 

"Me?"  Sally's  eyes  sought  Hester's  in  in- 
credulous wonder.  "  And  you  are  so  big  and 
beautiful !  "  she  exclaimed. 

Hester  smiled  wearily.  "  Beauty  doesn't  bring 
happiness,  Sally,  no  more  than  color  brings 
warmth.  It  is  the  heart  that  is  the  home  of  hap- 
piness, and  the  face  can  only  disclose  whether  the 
door  is  open  or  shut." 

Sally  was  but  dimly  conscious  of  her  meaning, 
and  remained  silent. 

A  sheet  of  lightning  bathed  the  water  of  the 
bay  in  a  lurid  glare,  and  played  upon  the  masts 
and  spars  of  the  floating  craft  in  the  little  harbor. 


282  Hester   Blair 

The  wind  sighed  threateningly,  and  the  sound  of 
distant  thunder  came  through  the  open  door. 

"  Sally,"  Hester  continued,  "  Keep  your  little 
heart  locked  up,  and  hold  fast  to  the  love  that  is 
yours.  Happiness  is  like  a  caged  bird  that  is 
forever  trying  to  flutter  away,  and  if  it  escapes, 
dies,  and  leaves  nothing  but  emptiness  and  deso- 
lation behind." 

"  Dear  me,  how  much  you  know,"  sighed  Sally, 
now  thoroughly  mystified. 

"  Sally  dear,  it  has  cost  me  much  to  learn." 

Through  the  open  door  a  fierce  gust  of  wind 
swept  through  the  room.  Two  of  the  villagers 
entered. 

"  Hessie,"  said  Mrs.  Bagly,  the  elder  of  the 
two,  "  Mother  Bently's  a  cryin'  fer  yer,  an'  takin' 
on  at  a  terrible  rate.  She  won't  'low  no  one  ter 
do  anything  fer  'er,  an'  sez  ef  yer  don't  come  back, 
she'll  get  up;  an'  if  she  do,  'twill  kill  her, 
sure." 

Mother  Bently  was  Hester's  especial  charge. 
She  wras  an  old  woman,  past  seventy,  bedridden, 
and  being  kept  alive  by  the  charity  of  her  neigh- 
bors. But  this  did  not  appease  her  wrath.  On 
general  principles  she  despised  all  human  kind; 
but  she  reserved  her  bitterest  hate  for  those 
around  her  whom  she  had  known  during  her  life- 
time. These  she  declared  were  mean, — more, 
they  were  downright  bad ;  and  she'd  have  none  of 
them.  And  she  claimed  to  know  whereof  she 
spoke.  In  any  case,  they  feared  her  tongue,  and 


John  Fights  for  the  Woman  He  Loves  283 

gladly  turned  the  care  of  her  over  to  Hester,  and 
were  devoutly  happy  to  be  rid  of  her.  The  care 
of  Mother  Bently  was  too  arduous  to  be  contem- 
plated within  the  scope  of  charity.  Besides,  it 
would  be  good  for  Hester.  She  should  do  some- 
thing to  show  that  she  appreciated  the  kindness 
with  which  they  treated  her — considering. 

Hester  went  out,  and,  passing  by  the  open  win- 
dow that  faced  the  sea,  turned  in  the  direction  of 
Mother  Bently's  home.  There  was  a  narrow 
board  walk  in  the  rear  of  the  building  raised  a 
few  feet  above  the  ground,  for  protection  from 
the  waters  of  the  bay,  that  lapped  the  foundation 
on  which  the  store  rested,  and  it  was  over  this 
that  Hester  walked.  As  she  went  by  the  win- 
dow, a  flash  of  lightning  illumined  the  bay,  and 
brought  out  the  beauty  of  her  features  that  were 
outlined  against  the  dark-green  waters. 

"  She's  beautiful,  no  sayin'  agin  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Bagly,  exchanging  a  look  with  her  companion. 
"  Pity  he  didn't  marry  her.  It's  allus  the  way 
with  them  kind." 

Sally  looked  up  into  the  speaker's  face  inquir- 
ingly. "Why  is  it  a  pity,  Mrs.  Bagly?"  she 
asked. 

"  Why?  O — "  Her  ingenuity  to  frame  a  re- 
ply was  spared  by  the  entrance  of  Fenton. 

The  women  looked  at  him  with  the  deference 
due  to  wealth.  He  was  known  to  every  one  in 
the  village  because  of  his  lavish  expenditure  of 
money;  and  they  regarded  him  as  being  far  re- 


284  Hester  Blair 

moved  from  ordinary  mortals.  The  two  women 
were  aware  that  Fenton  had  known  Hester  in 
New  York,  and  they  hoped  he  would  speak  of  her. 
Mrs.  Bagley  whispered  to  her  companion  under 
her  breath :  "  ef  he'd  only  come  two  minutes  ear- 
lier." 

But  fortune  favored  them.  With  a  glance 
about  the  store  Fenton  asked : 

"  Was  it  not  Miss  Blair  whom  I  just  saw  leav- 
ing here?  " 

Mrs.  Bagly  gave  a  little  gasp  of  joy  and  courte- 
sied  herself  into  notice.  "  Yes,"  she  answered, 
"  thet  wer>  Hessie."  Her  eyes  blinked  in  the  semi- 
darkness,  and  she  waited  with  ill-concealed  eager- 
ness for  him  to  speak.  He  rewarded  her  with  a 
smile — such  a  smile  as  the  damned  might  see  on 
the  face  of  their  tormentors.  The  smile,  how- 
ever, was  not  expressive  enough  to  suit  the  guile- 
less heart  of  Mrs.  Bagly, — it  was,  in  a  way,  too 
general.  Besides,  she  feared  that  he  might  change 
the  subject,  and  she  would  never  forgive  herself 
if  she  missed  this  opportunity.  Blinking  at  him 
smilingly,  she  ventured : 

"  Yer  knew  Hessie  in  New  York,  didn't  yer?  " 

Fenton  smiled  again,  but  it  was  a  smile  of  dis- 
dainful regard,  mingled  with  disgust,  for  the 
creature  before  him.  Bad  as  he  was,  he  shud- 
dered as  he  looked  at  this  human  vulture, — in  an- 
ticipation, gloating  over  the  character  of  one  of 
her  sex  that  she  would  pick  to  pieces. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  knew  her." 


John  Fights  for  the  Woman  He  Loves  285 

To  the  rapidly  increasing  darkness  they  paid 
no  attention^  nor  did  they  see  John  Gary  looking 
in  through  the  open  window,  with  an  expression 
on  his  face  as  dark  and  threatening  as  the  clouds 
that  hung  in  the  heavens. 

Since  the  day  of  Hester's  return  the  two  men 
had  not  met.  John,  with  the  fear  in  his  heart 
that  he  would  do  Fenton  bodily  harm,  avoided 
him.  Though  rational  in  all  things,  John  dared 
not  trust  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  man  who, 
above  all  others,  he  blamed  for  the  suffering  that 
Hester  had  endured.  When  he  had  looked  into 
the  store  and  saw  Fenton,  his  first  impulse  was 
to  turn  back, — to  get  away  from  any  possibility 
of  an  encounter  with  him.  He  feared  his  own 
strength,  and  he  feared  the  wild,  uncontrollable 
passion  that  the  sight  of  this  man  awakened  in 
him.  But  at  the  sound  of  Hester's  name  he  re- 
mained, rooted  to  the  ground,  with  the  blood 
dancing  to  his  finger  tips. 

"  Yes,"  Fenton  was  saying,  "  pity  she  came  to 
New  York,  and  a  greater  pity  that  she — well 
never  mind,  it  can't  be  helped  now." 

Mrs.  Bagly's  overwrought  feelings  found  vent, 
"  There,  Sary  Dunn,"  she  said  turning  to  her 
companion,  "  what'd  I  tell  yer?  " 

A  crash  of  thunder  warned  the  women  that  the 
storm  was  approaching  and,  when  they  opened 
the  door  to  depart,  above  the  dying  echoes  rose 
Sam  Pitts'  voice : 

"  Sally,  go  over  to  the  house  for  my  sou'easter 


286  Hester  Blair 

will  yer?  Boat's  draggin'  her  anchor.  Got  ter 
go  out  ter  her." 

The  women  and  Sally  went  out,  and  the  wind 
slammed  the  door  shut  With  a  serpent-like 
dart,  a  tongue  of  flame  cleft  the  heavens  in  two, 
and  loosed  the  thunder  that  crashed  over  their 
heads  in  rumbling  peals.  John,  with  the  light- 
ness of  a  cat,  sprang  through  the  open  window 
and  stood  before  Fenton. 

The  two  men  stood  motionless  for  a  full 
minute,  while  the  tempest  seemed  to  burst  over 
their  heads  in  a  succession  of  deafening  crashes. 
The  bay  and  harbor  were  ablaze  one  minute,  and 
the  next  instant  blackness,  pall-like  and  impene- 
trable, settled  over  land  and  sea,  to  disappear 
again  when  the  tongued  flames  shot  across  the 
sky,  and  into  the  sea  beyond  the  line  of  the  hori- 
zon. 

The  two  men  faced  each  other  without  fear,  the 
passion  of  hate  burning  within  them. 

"  God !  "  John  exclaimed,  "  if  you  were  a  man, 
or  the  semblance  of  a  man,  there'd  be  a  satisfac- 
tion in  thrashing  you ;  but  you're  a  thing,  a  blot 
and  an  insult  to  the  name  of  manhood.  You're 
a  dog,  worse  than  a  dog,  a  cur  whose  bastard 
blood  proclaims  him  an  outcast  among  his  kind." 

Deafening  thunder  shook  the  building  to  its 
foundations,  and  rolled  away  in  an  army  of 
echoes. 

"  That's  why,"  said  Fenton,  yon  hired  two 
assassins  to  waylay  me  on  the  road  and,  after 


John  Fights  for  the  Woman  He  Loves  287 

overpowering  me,  drive  twenty  or  thirty  miles 
into  the  woods,  and  leave  me  in  a  hunter's  shanty. 
Were  you  afraid  to  meet  me  openly?  " 

John  did  not  understand.  It  was  the  first  that 
he  had  heard  of  the  encounter.  He  believed  that 
Fenton  was  inventing  this  through  fear,  or  for 
motives  of  his  own. 

"  What  you  speak  of,"  John  said,  "  does  not 
concern  me." 

"  You  lie !  "     Fenton  fairly  hissed  the  words. 

John  laughed  scoffingly,  "  Do  you  think  the  lie 
given  by  you  would  move  me?  Bah !  You  de- 
generate! I  came  into  this  store  with  one  fixed 
purpose — that  before  you  go,  I  will  leave  my 
mark  upon  you.  Do  you  hear?  You  craven 
coward !  You  slanderer !  "  He  grasped  a  chair, 
and  using  his  feet  for  a  brace,  wrenched  the  back 
off  with  such  force,  that  the  chair  went  crashing 
into  the  wall.  He  threw  the  rung,  which  was  of 
heavy  wood  and  formidable  in  appearance,  at 
Fenton's  feet. 

"  Defend  yourself,"  he  said,  "  you  are  not  my 
match  physically." 

Fenton  picked  up  the  stick.  They  rushed  at 
each  other.  John  warded  off  the  lunge  that  Fen- 
ton made  at  him  with  his  left  hand,  and  dealt  him 
a  telling  blow,  that  sent  him  reeling  against  the 
side  of  the  building.  It  maddened  Fenton,  and 
he  rushed  at  John  in  a  blind  rage.  He  changed 
his  tactics,  however,  and  instead  of  aiming  at 
John's  head,  directed  a  vicious  blow  at  his  guard 


288  Hester   Blair 

arm,  wishing  to  disable  him.  John  was  unpre- 
pared for  this,  and  the  stick  came  down  on  his 
wrist  with  telling  force.  He  realized  Fenton's 
design  when  it  was  too  late,  and  furious  with  pain 
and  his  own  unguardedness,  drove  his  uninjured 
hand  with  terrific  force  at  Fenton.  It  caught 
Fen  ton  on  the  neck  and  chin,  and  nearly  lifted 
him  from  his  feet,  John  could  have  followed  up 
his  advantage  and  had  his  man  at  his  mercy,  but 
above  the  roar  of  the  storm  came  a  cry  from  the 
direction  of  the  window.  It  struck  John  to  the 
heart  and  he  turned  his  head.  It  was  a  fatal 
move,  for  with  a  spring,  Fenton  raised  the  stick. 
It  came  down  with  resounding  force  on  John's 
head  back  of  the  left  ear,  and  he  fell  limp  and 
lifeless  on  the  floor.  Again  the  cry  rose  above 
the  storm,  and  Hester  rushed  through  the  door  to 
the  prostrate  form  on  the  floor,  the  blood  oozing 
from  a  deep  wound  in  his  head. 

"  Coward !  "  she  exclaimed,  but  her  voice  was 
lost  in  the  rumbling  roar  outside. 

Fenton  said  nothing  but,  laughing  scoffingly, 
turned  on  his  heel  to  the  door,  to  be  confronted 
by  the  tall,  angular  form  of  Sam  Pitts,  on  whose 
face  was  an  expression  not  good  to  see.  Fenton 
shot  a  hasty  glance  at  the  window.  He  did  not 
like  Sam's  attitude,  nor  the  threatening  gleam  in 
Slack's  eyes  who  stood  looking  in  at  the  window, 
the  water  running  in  a  miniature  stream  from 
the  sou'easter  that  he  wore,  and  trickling  down 
his  bronzed  face. 


"It  was  no  time  for  talk  —  action,  immediate  action  - 
was  necessary." 


John  Fights  for  the  Woman  He  Loves  289 

As  between  Slack  and  the  window,  and  Sam 
and  the  door,  Fenton's  judgment  leaned  towards 
the  latter.  There  was  really  no  choice  between 
the  two,  the  only  difference  being  that  it  was 
Sam's  giant  hand  that  closed  upon  Fenton's 
throat,  and  shook  him  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat, 
until  Fenton's  face  turned  from  red  to  purple, 
and  Hester's  voice  saved  him  from  further  pun- 
ishment Sam  then  hurled  him  through  the  open 
door,  where  he  received  an  undignified  kick  from 
Slack,  who  refused  to  devote  further  time  to  him 
owing  to  his  anxiety  for  Gary. 

With  gentle  touches — for  they  could  be  gentle, 
these  fishermen — they  examined  the  condition  of 
John's  injuries. 

It  was  no  time  for  talk,  action, — immediate  ac- 
tion— was  necessary.  Words  could  be  indulged 
in  later. 

The  village  doctor  bent  over  him,  dressed  the 
cut  in  the  head  of  the  injured  man,  and  managed 
to  fill  Hester's  heart  with  sickening  dread. 

Within  the  hour  John  was  resting  in  his  own 
home,  and  had  he  been  conscious,  and  seen  the 
woman  he  loved  bending  over  him  with  a  world 
of  tenderness  in  her  tear-bedimmed  eyes,  he  would 
have  sworn  loudly  and  with  conviction,  that  the 
fates  had  been  kind  to  him.  But  he  did  not  know. 
And  the  morning  sun,  after  the  night  of  storm, 
shone  with  added  brilliancy;  but  to  the  clouded 
brain  of  the  man  in  the  darkened  room,  all  was 
as  black  as  Egyptian  night. 


CHAPTEE  XXV 
JOHN'S  RECOVERY 

Throughout  the  night,  throughout  the  day 

In  dreamless  sleep  her  lover  lay. 

She  touched  his  lips  with  kiss  as  light 

As  angel's  foot-falls  of  the  night 

He  woke,  he  sighed — a  sigh  of  bliss 

And  waking,  begged  another  kiss. 

THE  story  of  the  encounter  between  John  and 
Fenton,  burst  upon  the  village  with  the 
intensity  of  the  storm  of  the  previous 
night.  Of  late  there  had  been  a  dearth  of  news, 
and  this  event  seemed  a  special  dispensation  of 
Providence.  They  discussed  it  and  commented 
upon  it ;  censured  all  the  parties  concerned ;  and 
out  of  the  meagre  information  obtainable — Slack 
would  not  talk,  no  one  dared  ask  Sam  Pitts,  John 
was  unconscious  many  hours,  and  ill  and  weak 
many  more,  Hester  could  not  be  seen, — she  was 
hovering  over  John  with  the  tenderness  of  a 
woman  who  loves,  and  who  sees  the  object  of  her 
love  in  danger — the  good  people  were  thrown 
upon  their  own  resources  and  ingenuity  for  facts. 
But,  undaunted,  they  wrestled  manfully,  or 
rather  womanfully,  with  the  situations;  and  out 
of  the  congestion  of  details  evolved  the  following : 
that  Fenton  and  Hester  had  met  by  appointment ; 

290 


John's  Recovery  291 

that  John  had  surprised  them;  that  he  had  at- 
tacked Fenton  who  had  broken  a  chair  over  his 
head ;  that  Hester  was  the  only  one  to  blame ;  and 
that  John  was  a  blind  fool  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  her,  when  he  knew  what  she  was;  and 
there  were  Mary  Briggs,  Deacon  Prouty's  two 
girls,  who  sang  in  the  choir,  and  who  were  as  near 
ladies  as  girls  could  well  be,  who  could  make 
John  as  good  a  wife  as  a  man  might  ask  for, — 
"  even  ef  they  hedn't  ben  ter  New  York  an'  lived — 
no  one  knew  how." 

Hester,  meanwhile,  was  kissing  John  back  to 
consciousness.  He  opened  his  eyes  with  a  realiz- 
ing sense  of  his  position  and  the  cause  that  placed 
him  therein,  and  with  a  feeling  of  exquisite  de- 
light when  he  felt  the  lips  of  the  woman  he  loved 
lightly  touch  his  own.  Surprised  in  the  act,  she 
blushed  rose  red,  and  forgot  that  he  had  been  in 
danger.  Recovering  herself,  she  asked  him  how 
he  felt  and,  observing  her  confusion,  he  laughed 
uproariously  for  a  sick  man,  and  begged  for  an- 
other kiss. 

Hester,  being  assured  that  all  danger  was  over, 
mildly  scolded  him,  for  that  is  the  way  of  woman. 

When  the  role  of  convalescent  could  no  longer 
be  prolonged,  with  cheeks  glowing  with  color,  and 
heart  rebelling  against  his  offensively  healthy 
condition  that  made  further  efforts  at  nursing 
on  Hester's  part  mere  pretense,  John  pronounced 
himself  well  again.  He  went  about  his  usual  du- 
ties, and  scowled  upon  his  over-anxious  friends 


292  Hester    Blair 

and  the  world  in  general,  because  he  could  not  be 
comfortably  sick,  even  for  a  reasonable  time,  and 
be  nursed  by  the  woman  he  loved.  But  the  stolen 
kisses  were  a  golden  memory  that  filled  him  with 
unreasoning  delight,  and  all  things  else  seemed 
mean  and  paltry  in  comparison. 

John  sat  on  the  porch  talking  to  Hester.  The 
summer  guests  were  preparing  for  a  fishing  trip, 
and  Millie's  voice  came  through  the  open  door 
and  windows  in  fretful  complaining.  Slack  scuf- 
fingly  approached. 

"  Slack,"  John  said,  "  did  you  know  Fenton 
had  been  attacked  by  two  men  and,  after  being 
overpowered,  dragged  off  to  a  camp  twenty  miles 
or  so  and  left  there?  " 

Slack  manifested  but  a  mild  interest. 

"  Cum  ter  think  on't,  'pears  ter  me  I  did  hear 
som'thin'  'bout  it." 

John  watched  him  narrowly.  "  Do  you  know 
anything  about  it?  " 

Slack  looked  his  surprise. 

"  How  should  I  know.  I  jest  remember  hearin' 
som'on'  tellin'  'bout  et.  Let — me — see!  Shudn' 
wonder  ef  it  wer'  Bill  Blake.  Maybe  'twas." 

John  was  perplexed.  He  realized  that  it  would 
be  a  waste  of  time  to  attempt  to  draw  from  Slack 
more  than  he  wished  to  disclose,  allowing  that 
the  fisherman  did  have  knowledge  of  what  Fen- 
ton  had  stated.  He  looked  at  Slack,  whose  ex- 
pression of  countenance  was  that  of  a  sleeping 
child. 


John's  Recovery  293 

"What  does  Bill  know  about  it?"  John 
asked. 

"  D'know !  I'll  ask  'im  ef  yer  want  me  ter. 
Personally,  I'd  like  nothin'  better  than  ter  take 
Fenton  twenty  miles  inter  th'  woods  an'  hang 
'im  up  by  th'  thumbs.  The  dum  skunk !  " 

John  believed  Slack  meant  what  he  said.  He 
was  equally  certain  that,  if  Penton  spoke  the 
truth,  the  fisherman  was  concerned  in  the  affair, 
if,  in  fact,  he  were  not  the  prime  mover.  But 
wringing  confidences  from  Slack  when  he  chose 
to  withhold  them,  was  a  task  that  John  did  not 
care  to  undertake. 

Mrs.  Pendleton,  resplendent  in  an  outing  suit 
of  some  soft,  light  colored  material,  smiled  from 
the  doorway.  Slack's  answering  grin  enveloped 
his  face.  He  was  fond  of  the  widow,  and  he  made 
no  special  effort  to  disguise  the  fact. 

"  I  heard  Fenton's  name  as  I  came  through  the 
hall.  Tell  me,  has  he  taken  himself  off?  I  have 
a  tender  interest  in  him." 

"  Seems  ter  me,"  Slack  answered,  "  thet  every- 
one has  a  special  interest  in  Fenton.  John  wer* 
a  talkin'  as  how  he  got  kidnapped  an'  run  inter 
th'  woods." 

"  So  Fenton  told  me,"  Mrs.  Pendleton  replied, 
"  he  said  that  he  was  overpowered  on  the  road 
between  here  and  the  railroad  station  by  two 
men,  who  bound  and  gagged  him,  and  drove 
through  the  woods  to  a  huntsman's  camp.  He 
afterwards  learned  that  it  was  owned  by  a  Mr. 


294  Hester   Blair 

Dimock.  The  next  morning  he  was  forced  to  walk 
eight  miles  through  mud " 

Slack's  soft  chuckle  developed  into  a  roar.  It 
brought  the  guests  from  the  house  anxious  to  join 
him.  They  loved  mirth,  and  they  loved  Slack. 
It  also  brought  Millie  with  the  remark  that, 
"  some  folks  shud  hev  more  sense,"  but  Slack 
was  beyond  the  power  of  Millie's  reproving 
glance. 

"  How  I  shud  er  like  ter  see  'im !  Wonder  ef 
he  hed  on  his  patent  leathers?  " 

"  But  the  best  of  it  is,"  Mrs.  Pendleton  inter- 
jected, "  he  lays  the  blame  upon  John." 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho,"  began  Slack,  then  stopped. 
"  Why  John,"  he  said  reprovingly,  "  I  wouldn't 
er  thought  it  uv  yer!  Besides,  yer  layin'  yerself 
liable." 

John  smiled  at  Slack's  audacious  coolness.  He 
watched  the  eyes  of  the  speaker  that  laughed 
boldly  into  his  own. 

Mrs.  Pendleton  voiced  John's  opinion,  "  I  do 
believe,  Slack," — they  were  on  a  very  friendly 
footing,  even  Millie  noticed  it — "  I  do  believe  you 
know  more  of  the  affair  than  you  care  to  dis- 
close." 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Pendleton,"  began  Slack, 

Captain  Edwards's  voice  interrupted.  He  was 
bellowing  from  the  crest  of  the  hill  that  the  boat 
was  ready. 

"  And  you'll  come  fishing,  Mr.  Dorkins?  " 

Mrs.  Pendleton  hardly  needed  the  quick  glance 


John's  Recovery  295 

Slack  directed  at  the  door  to  tell  her  that  Millie 
was  standing  there. 

"  Don't  quite  see  how  I  kin,"  he  answered. 

Mrs.  Pendleton  could  almost  feel  Millie's  scorn- 
ful glance.  She  continued  sweetly :  "  Dear  me ! 
and  we  had  counted  on  your  going."  She  turned 
to  the  others :  "  Ladies,  can't  you  persuade  him?  " 

"  Do  come! "  they  exclaimed  in  varying  tones 
of  voice. 

Slack  had  one  eye  fixed  on  the  face  in  the  door- 
way. He  saw  the  toss  of  the  head ;  but  he  felt  the 
withering  glance  that  accompanied  it.  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton smiled  sweetly  at  him.  It  was  a  conscious 
smile  and  supposedly  conveyed  a  meaning  only 
known  to  themselves.  The  smile  was  resented  by 
at  least  one  of  the  party,  who  was  on  the  point 
of  openly  referring  to  the  private  understanding 
some  people  seemed  to  have,  and  disclaiming  any 
interest  in  it. 

Mrs.  Pendleton,  however,  gave  her  no  oppor- 
tunity. She  said : 

"  I  have  written  some  verses  on  fishing.  Would 
you  like  to  hear  them,  Mr.  Dorkins?  " 

"  With  pleasure,"  he  answered,  bowing  and 
placing  his  hand  over  his  heart.  The  action,  Mil- 
lie believed,  was  wholly  uncalled  for. 

Mrs.  Pendleton  began : 

"  We'll  fish  for  fish  in  the  open  sea, 

When  the  sea  is  calm,  when  the  sea  is  rough, 
In  the  tight  little  bay,  or  under  the  lea 
Of  the  bolder  bluff,  of  the  bolder  bluff. 


296  Hester  Blair 

If  the  fish  are  shy,  and  with  cunning  grille 

Kefuse  the  bait  on  a  silver  hook, 
We'll  lure  them  on  with  a  winsome  smile, 

And  a  fetching  look,  and  a  fetching  look. 

Or  -we'll  leave  the  fish  with  a  sigh  of  regret 
And  fish  for  fish  of  the  human  kind; 

With  minnows  of  love,  and  a  silken  net, 
For  love  is  blind,  yes,  love  is  blind. 

The  summer  wanes,  and  ere  I  go, 

I'll  add  one  more,  'twill  make  just  ten; 

And  I'll  love  them  all!     I  have  told  them  so, 
When  I  come  again,  when  I  come  again." 

Millie  made  periods  and  exclamation  points 
with  her  head  and  eyes,  during  the  recital,  and 
looked  unutterable  things  at  her  property,  who 
was  listening  in  open-mouthed  and  undisguised 
admiration.  A  chorus  of  "  Ohs  "  and  "  Ahs  "  re- 
warded Mrs.  Pendleton's  effort. 

One  of  the  listeners,  however,  except  for  a 
slight  disdainful  curl  of  the  lips,  manifested  no 
outward  sign  that  she  had  heard  Mrs.  Pendleton. 
Her  opinion,  expressed  later  was,  "  thet  it  was 
down-right  silly." 

After  the  applause  had  subsided,  someone 
asked :  "  Can  you  withstand  that,  Mr.  Dorkins?  " 

Slack  tried  to  catch  the  expression  on  the  face 
in  the  doorway,  but  could  only  see  the  head  dance, 
and  a  stray  curl  bobbing  about.  He  looked  at 
everyone  but  Millie,  who  bided  her  time  and  har- 
bored her  scorn.  He  rose  slowly  out  of  his  seat. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  don't  know  but  thet  I 
will — being  as  how  th'  invertation  is  so  pressin'." 


John's  Recovery  297 

Then  it  came.  A  whole  morning's  pent  up 
irony,  in  a  voice  that  said  that  she  didn't  care 
for  all  the  smiling  understandings  in  the  complex 
network  of  the  universe.  She  was  addressing  her 
property, — her  very  own,  and  what  right  had  he 
to  think  for  himself?  She  could  afford  to  assume 
a  slow  sing-song  tone.  She  was  simply  voicing 
her  decision  that  had  been  made  up  before  the 
discussion  had  been  many  minutes  old. 

"  P'r'aps  yer7!!  remember,  Slack  Dorkins,  ther's 
th'  wood  to  be  got  in ;  ther's  th'  garden  stuff  ter 
be  got  ready  fer  dinner;  th'  churnin'  hes  got  ter 
be  done  some  time  ter-day ;  art er  thet,  if  yer  hev 
any  spare  time,  yer  might  put  on  a  yachting'  suit 
an'  go  sailin'." 

Slack  dropped  slowly  back  into  his  seat  with 
becoming  humility.  "  Don't  see  as  how  I  kin  go 
ter-day,  Mrs.  Pendleton.  Much  erblidged  ter  yer 
fer  th'  invertation.  Some  other  day — 

"  O,  I  am  so  sorry,  my  dear  Mr.  Dorkins.  You 
don't  know  how  we  shall  miss  you.  How  I  should 
like  to  help  you  with  the  churning ! " 

Captain  Edwards's  voice  said  plainly  that  he 
was  tired  of  waiting,  and  the  guests  slowly  de- 
scended the  hill  to  the  boat  landing,  followed  by 
Millie's  voice  protesting  against  the  frivolities  of 
life,  and  exhorting  a  divine  Providence  to  be  le- 
nient to  Incompetents  known  as  summer  board- 
ers. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

"  IT  IS  BETTER  THAT  YOU  FORGET  " 

You  ask  me  to  forget.    Though.  I  must  part 
With  all  that's  dear  to  me  in  life,  sweetheart, 
Grant  me  the  memory  of  a  love  that  fills 
My  life  with  a  sweet  ecstasy  that  thrills 
The  heart.     Hopeless  it  be,  mayhap,  and  yet 
I  would  not  if  I  could,  dear  love,  forget. 

IT  was  the  twenty-sixth  of  the  month,  memor- 
able in  the  Blair  family  as  the  day  preced- 
ing Ethel's  birthday.  A  festive  feeling  was 
in  the  air,  and  the  inmates  of  the  old  farmhouse 
were  burning  with  impatience  and  anticipation. 
The  morrow  would  usher  in  Ethel's  seventeenth 
birthday,  and  with  it  the  festivities  with  which  it 
was  to  be  marked.  Sixteen  times,  in  as  many 
years,  had  the  friends  and  neighbors  of  the  family 
celebrated  the  event,  and  Hester  was  determined 
that  in  no  way  should  the  seventeenth  differ  from 
what  had  gone  before.  She  awaited  the  day  with 
trepidation,  fearing  the  villagers'  ill-concealed 
aversion  for  herself  might  be  visited  upon  her 
sister.  In  her  determination  to  live  down  their 
distrust  and  dislike,  she  had  gone  on  with  the  ar- 
rangements for  the  party,  and  she  entered  into 
the  spirit  of  the  occasion  in  a  manner  that  be- 


"  It  is  Better  That  You  Forget  "     299 

trayed  none  of  the  dread  that  filled  her  heart. 
She  joined  in  the  laughter  of  the  guests  with  her 
old  time  light-heartedness,  and  Millie  and  Ethel, 
noting  the  change,  marveled,  and  congratulated 
each  other  that  she  was  her  former  self  again. 
She  did  not,  however,  deceive  Slack,  and  it  hurt 
him,  for  he  knew  what  the  effort  cost  her. 

History  was  making  fast  for  some  of  the  actors 
of  our  life  drama.  John  was  obliged  to  give  an 
answer  to  his  uncle,  who  insisted  that  he  either 
accept  or  decline  the  position.  It  was  generally 
understood  that  he  would  accept  it.  His  eyes  told 
that  life  had  gone  out  of  him,  and  with  its  going 
had  come  the  determination  to  get  away — any- 
where, where  he  could  not  be  daily  and  hourly 
reminded  of  his  love  for  Hester. 

The  guests  were  lounging  upon  the  porch.  The 
party  was  under  discussion, — in  fact,  nothing  else 
had  been  talked  of  for  a  week  past;  and  Slack 
was  being  plied  with  questions  as  to  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  dance. 

Millie  was  holding  a  whispered  consultation 
with  Ethel  as  to  the  advisability  of  substituting 
vanilla  flavoring  for  lemon;  how  long  an  egg 
should  be  beaten  to  make  frosting;  and  certain 
vague  allusions  to  cranberry  tartlets  and  plum- 
pudding,  that  did  not  tend  to  allay  the  impatience 
of  her  listeners.  She  was  happy,  as  happy  as  it 
were  possible  for  her  to  be,  for  there  was  much 
cooking  to  do,  and  therein — to  her — lay  Heaven. 
She  had  forgotten  her  troubles,  and  for  two  whole 


300  Hester    Blair 

days  Slack  had  been  allowed  to  run  at  large,  un- 
heeded and  unrestrained,  and  to  revel  in  lux- 
urious disorder.  There  was  something  foreign  in 
his  manner ;  and  he  went  about  with  a  determined 
air  and  a  confident  stride  that  foretold  a  happen- 
ing. There  had  been  many  earnest  and  pro- 
tracted consultations  with  Ethel;  and  he  ex- 
changed smiling  glances  with  Mrs.  Pendleton 
that  were  full  of  meaning.  Many  times  during 
the  day  he  found  it  necessary  to  confer  with  the 
widow,  whose  experience  lent  the  advice  she  gave 
him  added  weight;  and  he  would  leave  her  with 
head  high,  and  a  confident,  self-assured  smile. 

Hester  was  alone  in  the  dining  hall,  standing 
before  the  open  fireplace,  one  hand  resting  on  the 
mantel  above  it.  The  talk  of  the  guests  jarred 
upon  her  nerves ;  and  she  was  glad  to  seek  quiet 
and  throw  off  the  mask  of  assumed  jollity.  The 
time  she  had  dreaded  for  months  past,  had  come. 
To  John  she  must  say  the  word  that  would  take 
him  out  of  her  lifel  He  would  know : — he  would 
have  the  answer  for  which  he  had  waited,  and 
she  must  give  it  to  him.  It  was  not  of  herself 
she  thought.  She  had  schooled  her  heart  and  her 
mind  to  bear  suffering  with  patient  stolidity,  and 
the  kicks  and  the  buffets  of  the  world  she  neither 
turned  from  nor  resented.  But  it  was  the  suffer- 
ing of  the  man  she  loved  that  touched  her  heart- 
strings, and  her  courage  dissolved,  and  left  the 
heart  nothing  to  build  upon ;  for  with  her  answer, 
came  the  death  of  hope.  Her  refusal  was  a  trib- 


"  It  is  Better  That  You  Forget  "     301 

ute  to  the  greatness  of  his  love.  It  was  he  alone 
and  his  future  that  she  considered ;  for  she  knew 
the  world,  and  that  world  would  never  forgive 
her ;  nor  allow  him  to  forget  that  he  had  defied  its 
opinion.  She  was  expecting  Gary,  and  with 
love's  quick  ear,  she  recognized  his  step  in  the 
hall  before  he  opened  the  door.  She  did  not  move 
from  her  position,  and  he  stood  a  moment  after 
entering  the  room,  before  speaking. 

"  Thinking,  Hester?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  softly. 

"Of  whom?" 

"  Of  you,  John  dear,  and  what  life  will  be  when 
you  are  away." 

"  Away,"  he  laughed  bitterly,  "  what  a  jolly 
lark  'twill  be,  with  eight  thousand  miles  of  ocean 
between  us.  And  you'll  remember " 

"  Yes,  I'll  remember  our  childish  love-making." 
Her  voice  sank  to  a  whisper. 

"  Indeed  yes,"  he  answered. 

"  And  the  winter  evenings  at  the  piano." 

Ethel  was  softly  singing  an  old  folk  song  in 
the  adjoining  room,  and  weaving  a  net  work  of 
harmony  round  the  simple  melody.  They  lis- 
tened, and  neither  spoke  for  some  minutes. 

"  That  was  one  of  the  songs  you  loved,  John." 

"  My  God !  "  he  muttered.  She  could  not  see  his 
face,  or  the  effort  he  made  to  control  himself. 

"  And  the  moonlight  evenings  on  the  bluff.  We 
could  hear  the  boatmen  singing,  and  we  made 
such  absurd  promises  to  each  other." 


302  Hester  Blair 

"  Absurd,"  he  repeated,  "  quite  absurd." 

"  And  when  you  write,  John  dear,  your  letters 
will  become  more  and  more  formal;  and  then  I 
shall  know  that — that  you  forget." 

"  Would  to  God  that  I  could !  And  yet  I  would 
not" 

"  Don't  John,  it  is  too  late — too  late." 

"  It  is  not  too  late,"  he  said  passionately,  "  if 
you  loved  me  Hester " 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  sadly : 

"  If  I  loved  you?  If  I  loved  you  less  I  w^ould 
give  you  the  answer  you  desire.  I  will  not  con- 
sent to  cloud  your  life.  You  know  how  I  am 
treated  in  the  village." 

"  The  beasts !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Do  you  realize  that  they  shun  me  as  some- 
thing unclean?  That  the  friends  of  my  child- 
hood pass  me  by  and  turn  their  heads  from  me? 
Go  where  I  may,  'twill  be  the  same.  In  a  wo- 
man's case  the  world  never  forgets  or  forgives. 
Let  the  breath  of  calumny  once  touch  her  name, 
all  is  over.  Be  she  innocent  or  guilty,  it  matters 
not, — the  world  will  have  her  guilty.  No,  John, 
it  cannot  be." 

"  My  God !  "  Despair  was  in  his  voice  and  in 
his  face,  "  do  you  think  I  can  pluck  the  image 
from  my  heart  that  I  have  worn  there  for  a  life- 
time? That  I  can  break  from  past  associations 
that  have  stamped  themselves  on  my  heart  and 
brain,  until  they  have  become  a  part  of  my  being 
— life  itself?  Is  there  anything  that  will  change 


"  It  is  Better  That  You  Forget "     303 

your  answer?  Can  you  give  me  no  hope  to  live 
for? — one  word  that  in  time  you  will  send  for 
me?" 

"  No,  no,  John  dear,  my  decision  is  final.  I 
thank  God  for  your  faith  in  me.  I  would  give 
more  for  your  trust  than " 

"  My  faith  in  you,  Hester,  is  the  faith  I  learned 
at  my  mother's  knee.  When  I  lose  that  faith  de- 
sire for  life  shall  have  ceased ;  for  when  my  faith 
in  you  dies,  then  dies  my  faith  in  womankind. 
Hester,  I  will  wait." 

"  Don't,  John,  don't  open  the  old  wounds  and 
wring  our  hearts  anew.  It  will  avail  nothing, 
and  will  not  alter  my  determination.  When  you 
are  far  away,  when  time  has  healed  the  wound, 
write  to  me,  dear  friend,  and  believe  me  your 
words  will  find  an  answering  beat  of  sympathy 
in  my  heart.  When  at  some  future  time  you  find 
some  sympathetic  helpmate  who  can,  in  some  de- 
gree, fill  your  life,  be  assured  that  I  shall  offer  a 
prayer  that  she  may  be  worthy  of  as  true  a  heart 
as  ever  woman  loved !  " 

What  Hester  suffered  she  alone  knew.  It  was 
too  late  now  to  proclaim  the  truth,  even  did  she 
desire  that  the  truth  be  known;  but  she  would 
not  consent  to  have  him  take  up  her  burden,  how- 
ever much  her  refusal  cost  her.  She  loved  him 
too  well  to  accept  what  she  deemed  a  sacrifice, 
that  might  influence  his  life.  She  had  given  him 
his  answer  in  a  voice  in  which  love  and  sorrow 
struggled  for  mastery,  but  controlled  by  a  calm 


304  Hester  Blair 

determination;  and  it  left  no  doubt  in  John's 
mind  that  it  would  be  useless  to  try  to  swerve  her 
from  her  purpose  or  decision.  Her  nature  was 
one  that  could  be  influenced  only  by  the  highest 
ideals;  and  her  sense  of  justice  dominated  her 
judgment.  She  turned  to  him  with  the  feeling 
that  she  had  surrendered  all  that  was  left  for  her 
to  give,  but  with  a  calmness  that  told  nothing  of 
what  the  effort  had  cost  her. 

"  John  dear,"  she  said,  "  it  is  better  that  you 
accept  your  uncle's  offer  at  once.  You  have  al- 
ready delayed  too  long.  It  will  save  us  both  un- 
necessary suffering." 

He  had  once  told  her  that  he  was  a  strong  man, 
with  a  strong  man's  feelings.  He  looked  at  her, 
and  his  eyes  said  what  he  could  not  trust  himself 
to  utter. 

After  a  few  moments  of  silence  two  of  the 
guests  hurriedly  entered  the  room,  filled  with  con- 
cerns of  much  moment  to  themselves.  They  failed 
to  appreciate  the  glance  that  John  met  them  with ; 
— a  look  that  might  be  construed  as  wishing  them 
consigned  to  that  place  which  is  so  far  removed, 
that  it  is  not  for  us  to  consider  its  exact  location. 
Hester  received  them  with  an  air  of  interest. 

History  has  never  recorded  whether  or  not 
Marie  Antoinette  smiled  when  she  laid  her  head 
on  the  block  of  the  guillotine.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
Hester's  smile  told  the  guests  that  they  could 
count  upon  her  interest  in  their  unspoken  trouble, 
which  was  bubbling  from  their  eyes,  and  trem- 


"  It  is  Better  That  You  Forget "     305 

bling  on  their  overworked  tongues.  And  they — 
but  what  had  they  to  do  with  broken  hearts? 
That  undefined  complaint  is  to  be  found  only  in 
story  books.  They  were  considering  the  dance, 
which  was  a  much  more  tangible  affair. 

"  Miss  Blair,  won't  you  and  Mr.  Gary  come  out 
on  the  porch?  "  they  asked.  "  Do  you  know,  we 
had  arranged  to  dance  the  minuet,  and  someone 
says  that  the  band  can't  play  the  music." 

Here  was  a  condition  of  affairs.  Hester  lent 
her  counsel  to  overcome  the  difficulty.  John  ex- 
cused himself.  He  wanted  to  think,  and  he 
sought  the  bench  on  the  bluff.  He  muttered  some- 
thing concerning  summer  guests  in  general.  It 
is  not  necessary  to  record  what  he  said.  He  ad- 
dressed his  remarks  to  the  sea,  and  the  soft  night 
breezes  sighed  acquiescently. 

Hester  explained  that  the  village  band  could 
not  play  the  minuet.  Their  music  was  of  the 
"  play  by  ear  "  order,  and  notes  were  to  them  as 
Greek  to  a  Comanche  Indian. 

"  Couldn't  the  piano  be  moved  out  to  the  or- 
chard? And  wouldn't  she  play  for  them  to  dance 
the  minuet?  "  To  which  she  smilingly  consented. 

"  But  they  hadn't  rehearsed  it,  and  really,  they 
ought  to  practise  it  a  few  times,  a  sort  of  dress 
rehearsal,  you  know.  Would  Hester  play  it  now? 
They  would  dance  on  the  porch.  What  a  dear 
girl  she  was." 

They  formed  for  the  dance  and  Hester's  hands 
brought  forth  the  quaint  music  with  uncertain 


306  Hester   Blair 

touch,  and  the  sound  jarred  upon  her  nerves,  for 
the  heart  would  be  considered.  The  dancers 
wrangled  good-naturedly  with  each  other  and — 
"would  she  kindly  play  it  again?"  which  she 
did.  And  thus  tragedies  and  comedies  are  played 
under  our  very  eyes,  and  we  do  not  know  it — till 
the  curtain  falls. 

Meantime  in  the  dining  room,  Mrs.  Pendleton 
was  saying : 

"  To-morrow's  your  opportunity !  The  excite- 
ment !  The  dance !  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Slack,  "  but  you  don't  know 
Millie." 

"  Dear  me,"  replied  her  companion,  "  how 
little  you  know  women.  A  woman  is  like  an  un- 
broken horse,  she  obeys  only  the  man  who  is  her 
master.  You  must  break  her;  bring  her  under 
control ;  keep  the  reins  so  that  she  feels  that  your 
hands  are  on  them, — and  her  love  is  yours." 

"  Ter-morrer  I'll " 

"  Now  you  grasp  the  situation !  Begin  by  mak- 
ing love  to  the  girls  from  the  village.  'Twill  bring 
Millie  to  her  senses." 

"  D'yer  think  so?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  know  it.  You've  dilly-dallied  long  enough. 
I'd  have  lost  patience  with  you  long  ago.  Tell  her 
now  or  never.  My  experience  ought  to  give  some 
weight  to  my  advice." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Slack,  "  I  think  it  hed." 

She  looked  at  him  sharply,  but  his  child-like 
gaze  met  her  own  unflinchingly.  They  discussed 


"  It  is  Better  That  You  Forget "     307 

their  plan  of  procedure,  and,  while  the  guests 
danced,  and  Hester,  with  smiling  face  played, — 
the  hammers  of  the  instrument  seeming  to  pound 
on  her  heart-strings, — the  conspirators  arranged 
the  details  to  "Capture  Millie's  long  withheld  con- 
sent. But  they  had  not  counted  upon  her  enter- 
ing the  room  at  that  moment.  Their  heads  were 
close  together  as  they  whispered  their  confidence 
of  success. 

Millie  sailed  majestically  into  the  room  and 
cast  a  haughty,  indifferent  glance  at  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton,  which  did  not  include  her  companion ;  and 
her  curls  tossed  back  her  disdain  with  vigorous 
energy.  But  her  property  held  himself  erect  with 
new-found  courage.  She  took  a  lamp  from  the 
mantel  and  went  upstairs,  followed  by  a  gentle 
chuckle  from  the  wretch  who  dared  believe  that 
on  the  morrow,  he  would  wring  from  her  con- 
sent to  become  Mrs.  Slack,  and  do  his  bidding 
for  all  time. 

They  returned  to  the  porch  in  time  to  hear  the 
guests  thank  Hester,  call  her  a  "  dear  "  and  ex- 
claim :  "  They  had  never  heard  the  music  of  a 
minuet  played  so  well !  She  seemed  in  such  sym- 
pathy with  the  dancers." 

"  Mr.  Dorkins,  is  it  true  that  the  band  consists 
of  but  two  pieces?  " 

"  Generally  it  do,"  Slack  replied,  "  a  fiddle  an' 
a  big  fiddle, — an'  it's  a  hummer !  Beats  any  five 
piece  band  yer  ever  heered.  Dice  Robbins  plays 
the  bull-fiddle,  and  when  he  gets  under  full  sail, 


308  Hester  Blair 

yer'd  think  a  sou'easter  wer'  comin'  down  th' 
coast.  Talk  uv  yer  Pagganinies !  why  he  c'n  play 
a  chorus-jig  on  one  string,  'n  when  th'  notes  ain't 
thick  'nough  in  th'  tune  ter  suit  'im,  he  jest 
chucks  in  whole  handfuls  of  his  own.  Why, 
Dice's  a  whole  band  in  himself,  and  a  church 
organ  ter  boot;  'n  ter-morrer  yer'll  say  as  how 
I'm  pretty  near  right !  " 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  MORNING  OF  THE  27TH 

Hearts  break!     What  matters  it?    On  with  the  dance! 

IT  was  the  morning  of  the  twenty-seventh. 
The  mysterious  hush  that  precedes  the  first 
gleam  of  light  was  over  land  and  sea,  and 
nature,  awaiting  breathlessly  the  breaking  of 
dawn,  seemed  to  pause  in  wonderment  and  view 
its  own  marvelous  workings,  while  the  darkness 
thickened  as  if  to  hide  its  charms.  It  was  a  calm 
awakening  of  a  new  day :  a  light  appeared  in  the 
east  and  trembled  lest  it  break  the  spell,  then  the 
cloud  banks,  low  on  the  horizon,  blushed  a  dull 
red — and  the  day  was  born.  Smoke  curled  in  list- 
less waves  from  the  chimney  tops;  and  the  sails 
of  the  early  fishermen  flapped  lazily,  as  their 
boats  drifted  aimlessly  at  a  sluggard's  pace. 

The  inmates  of  the  Blair  home  were  astir. 
Either  hope,  despair  or  joy  had  taken  possession 
of  every  heart  and  mind,  and  they  awaited  the 
day  with  varying  emotions.  Within  the  walls  of 
the  farm  house  all  was  anticipation;  but  none 
were  prepared  to  say  just  what  they  expected. 
There  was  an  air  of  mystery  about  everything. 
Slack  was  an  enigma  to  all ;  Ethel  felt  that  some- 


3 1  o  Hester   Blair 

thing  was  wrong,  or  was  about  to  happen,  and 
almost  regretted  that  she  was  to  have  a  birthday 
party.  Millie  was  too  busy  with  the  surprises  she 
was  preparing, — which  took  the  form  of  huge 
cakes  covered  with  a  filigree  of  frosting, — to  no- 
tice the  guests,  and  they,  thinking  only  of  them- 
selves, were  uproariously  happy  in  anticipation 
of  the  dance.  Hester  seemed  to  be  the  only  self- 
possessed  member  of  the  family;  but  there  were 
dark  circles  under  her  eyes,  which  she  assured 
them  were  occasioned  by  a  slight  headache. 

At  breakfast  the  guests  were  hilarious.  They 
all  talked  at  the  same  time,  and  forgot  the  muf- 
fins, which  was  a  deadly  offence  from  Millie's 
point  of  view.  But  they  made  atonement  by 
draining  the  coffee  urn — for  coffee  of  Millie's 
brewing  was  the  kind  that  gladdens  the  heart, 
and  puts  one  on  an  equality  with  kings.  The 
breakfast  finished,  they  repaired  to  the  lawn 
to  give  vent  to  their  exhilaration,  for  truth  to  say, 
they  were  slightly  under  the  influence  of  Millie's 
coffee,  for  it  was  not  to  be  trifled  with. 

Young  Stevens  began  it.  He  claimed  to  be  an 
amateur  actor ;  he  believed  he  was  meant  for  bet- 
ter things. 

"  Heigh-ho !  Would  to  Heaven  the  time'd  fly 
on  apace.  The  dance!  The  dance's  the  thing!" 

"  Would  to  Heaven  that  Ethy  had  a  birthday 
party  every  week,"  added  one  of  the  lady  guests. 

Stevens  scowled  on  her  for  the  interruption, 
then  striking  a  posture  continued :  "  The  slug- 


The  Morning  of  the   27th         311 

gard  sun  now  pauses  in  its  course  to  mock  at  my 
impatience." 

"  It  do.  It  doth.  Hear  him !  He's  drunk  on 
Millie's  coffee." 

Placing  his  hand  over  his  heart  with  true  dra- 
matic fervor,  Stevens  rewarded  them  with  a  stare. 

"  Could  I  of  my  nether  limbs  a  pendulum  make, 
I'd  tick  the  time  along  with  mad,  o'erwhelrning 
speed.  The  hours  would  minutes  be,  and  this 
terrestrial  sphere  would  on  its  axis  turn  with 
such  a  wild  abandon  that,  at  stroke  of  three,  paus- 
ing to  resume  its  snail-like  course,  the  shock 
would  hurl  us  into  limitless  space." 

He  glared  at  them  with  wild-eyed  anticipation 
of  applause. 

"  Limitless  fiddlesticks !  "  came  in  a  chorus. 

"  Until,  carrying  us  to  the  unknown  pole,  the 
air,  compressed  till  'twas  as  a  million  pounds  to 
the  square  inch,  ere  we  had  time  to  shiver,  return 
us  with  a  mighty  sch-ute,  and  land  us  in  the  heart 
of  that  dark  continent,  where  Dusky  Belles,  sans 
raiment,  only  such  as  Mother  Nature  had  adorned 

them  with "  The  ladies  interrupted  him  with 

a  protracted,  "  O !  "  Undaunted  he  continued : 
"  would  join  us  in  a  mad,  esthetic  dance.  No 
shock  to  modesty,  for  our  apparel  gay  would 
o'er  ten  thousand  miles  be  strewn;  and  clothed 
in  smiles  and  such  expressions  to  a  kind  Provi- 
dence of  gratitude  as  would  befit  our  .nakedness, 
we'd  return  to  Nature." 

"He's  mad!" 


312  Hester    Blair 

"  I  am,"  he  replied,  "  for  the  dance !  "  He  shuf- 
fled off  a  few  steps  and  turned  to  Mrs.  Pendleton 
who  had  coine  from  the  house. 

"  Madam !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  we've  returned !  " 

"  From  where?  "  she  asked. 

"  From  Mars !  Aye,  eh  faith !  From  Mars !  We 
found  them  dancing!  We  rested  for  the  brief 
space  of  eight  hundred  years!  The  first  figure  of 
the  cotillion  was  yet  unfinished !  They  are  danc- 
ing yet!  And  now,  fair  conqueror  of  hearts, 
I'll " 

"  He's  mad !  "  they  reiterated. 

"  Hush !  "  Mrs.  Pendleton  said.  She  turned  to 
a  lady  guest.  "  The  very  air  is  surcharged  with 
madness.  It  makes  me  think  of  one  of  the  panto- 
mimes at  dear  old  Drury  Lane  that  I  never 
could  understand.  Comedy!  Romantic  Drama! 
Tragedy!  All  rolled  into  one;  and  most  marvel- 
ous !  /  was  not  concerned  in  it.  That  is,  as  much 
as  I'd  like  to  be.  It  will  be  one  regret  of  my  life. 
One  lost  opportunity."  Her  sigh  was  eloquent. 
"  Well,  there's  this  satisfaction,  it's  the  only  one 
I  ever  missed !  First  came  the  announcement  of 
the  birthday  party;  then,  directly  on  its  heels, 
we  hear  of  Mr.  Gary's  departure  for  South  Amer- 
ica. What  next,  I  wonder?  How  I  shall  miss 
Mr.  Gary !  "  She  sighed,  "  do  you  know,  I  think 
him — just — too — lovely !  And  to  think  that  Hes- 
ter has  refused  him !  I  can't  imagine  a  woman 
in  her  senses  refusing  Mr.  Gary !  " 


The  Morning  of  the  27th         313 

"  Do  you  think  she  cares  for  him?  "  asked  her 
companion. 

"  Care  for  him !  Care  for  him !  She's  madly 
in  love  with  him !  How  could  she  help  it?  I'm 
in  love  with  him,  and  so  are  you,  and  so  is  every 
woman  on  the  place.  Look  at  him!  His  head, 
his  eyes,  the  shoulders  of  a  Roman  gladiator,  the 
carriage  of  a  prince !  O,  she  must  be  mad,  mad, 
mad! " 

"  Dear  me,  every  one  seems  a  bit  touched. 
Why  in  the  world  doesn't  she  accept  him?  I'm 
free  to  acknowledge  that  I  wouldn't  have  the 
courage  to  refuse,  if  he  asked  me." 

"  O,  Heaven  alone  knows  why  she  has  refused 
him.  The  ways  of  some  women  are  past  finding 
out.  She  has  some  powerful  reason,  and  she'll 
follow  what  she  considers  her  duty,  and  wreck 
both  their  lives."  She  raised  her  hands  implor- 
ingly and  continued :  "  Will  Heaven  only  point 
out  some  way  to  clear  up  this  trouble  before  Mr. 
Gary  gets  away.  South  America!  Now,  if  it 
were  only  Brooklyn  or  Hoboken  where  we  could 
run  over  from  New  York  to  see  him.  But  South 
America !  O !  " 

Mrs.  Pendleton  was  far  too  shrewd  and  ob- 
serving a  woman  not  to  understand  the  motive 
that  influenced  Hester.  But  she  was  much  too 
wise  a  woman  to  pretend  to  understand  her  mo- 
tive, and  too  true  a  woman  to  speak  of  what  she 
believed.  All  of  which  went  to  prove  her  a  re- 


314  Hester   Blair 

markable  representative  of  her  sex.  She  knew 
Hester  well,  and  though  she  respected  her  prin- 
ciples, she  did  not  agree  with  her  judgment  in 
making  the  sacrifice.  The  widow  knew  the 
world, — she  knew  it  well;  and  she  despised  it 
for  its  hypocritical  pretenses.  Under  her  friv- 
olous exterior  were  hidden  the  instincts  of  a  pure, 
noble-minded  woman;  yet  were  she  in  Hester's 
place,  she  would  have  snapped  her  fingers  at  the 
world,  and  laughed  herself  into  its  good  graces. 

As  she  finished  speaking,  Captain  Edwards 
came  over  the  brow  of  the  hill.  Mrs.  Pendleton 
loved  all  men,  but  she  loved  best  the  big,  brawny, 
whole-souled  type  of  which  Captain  Edwards  was 
a  specimen.  She  saw  him  approaching,  and  her 
smile  of  pleasure,  as  she  ran  to  meet  him,  brought 
a  blush  to  the  face  of  the  kindly  fisherman. 

"  The  last  victim,"  said  Stevens. 

Mrs.  Pendleton  held  out  her  hand,  "  My  dear 
Captain  Edwards,"  she  said. 

"  Another  broken  heart,"  someone  exclaimed. 
"  He'll  drown  himself  when  she  goes.  No,  he'll 
take  to  drink." 

"  How  good  of  you  to  come  and  see  us,"  Mrs. 
Pendleton  said. 

The  captain  could  not  resist  her  smile.  "  I 
hed  ter  see  Slack  on  a  little  business,"  he  an- 
swered. 

The  good  captain  was  unfortunate.  His  eyes 
betrayed  him.  It  was  not  Slack  he  had  come  to 
see. 


The  Morning  of  the  zyth        315 

"He  had  to  see  Slack,"  a  guest  unfeelingly 
murmured. 

"  Anyhow,  we're  delighted  to  see  you."  Mrs. 
Pendleton  meant  it,  and  her  laugh  was  good  to 
hear. 

"  Take  care  of  your  heart,  Captain,"  some  one 
suggested. 

He  answered  Mrs.  Pendleton,  "  Air  yer?  Well, 
now ! " 

"  Indeed,  yes.     You're  coming  to  the  dance?  " 

"  It's  a  long  time  since — " 

"  What  matters  it?  "  It  was  her  smile  that 
was  dangerous.  The  captain  was  unwary,  she 
continued :  "  Don't  you  think  now  that  we — er 
— the  Virginia  Reel,  say?  " 

"  Well,  ef  yer  think  yer  ken  put  up  with  me  for 
a  partner — " 

"  She's  landed  him !  "  exclaimed  Stevens  ad- 
miringly. 

"  How  kind  of  you,"  answered  Mrs.  Pendleton, 
"  you'll  come  early?  " 

"  O,  I'll  be  here  on  time,"  he  laughed. 

He  entered  the  house  in  search  of  Slack. 

"  That  yacht  of  Fenton's  is  a  dandy,"  observed 
Stevens,  who  was  looking  out  over  the  bay. 
"  She's  just  coming  in  from  outside.  She  car- 
ries herself  like  a  swan." 

Mrs.  Pendleton's  face  clouded.  She  had  been 
happy  in  the  thought  that  Fenton  was  away. 
She  could  not  explain  it,  but  she  feared  that  he 
meant  mischief.  She  said  nothing,  and  in  her 


3 1 6  Hester    Blair 

customary  manner  put  aside  all  unpleasant 
thoughts.  No  one  could  remain  long  in  the  com- 
pany gathered  there,  and  think  of  their  own  con- 
cerns; they  could  not,  in  fact,  think  at  all,  for 
pandemonium  reigned. 

Mrs.  Pendleton  took  advantage  of  their  fun 
making  to  slip  away  unobserved.  She  had  seen 
John  approach  and  go  in  the  direction  of  Slack's 
shanty.  She  had  conceived  the  praiseworthy  idea 
of  straightening  out  his  tangled  love  affair,  and 
approached  him  with  little  ceremony.  He  was 
talking  to  Slack.  She  beckoned  the  fisherman 
to  her.  "  Slack,"  she  said,  "  leave  me  alone  with 
Mr.  Gary,  I  want  to  speak  to  him." 

Slack  surmised  her  intention.  He  smiled  and 
went  in  the  direction  of  the  house,  "  ef  anyone," 
he  muttered,  "  ken  bring  John  an'  Hessie  ter- 
gether,  that  one's  th'  widder.  But  I'm  afraid 
she  can't  fetch  it." 

Mrs.  Pendleton  came  to  the  point  at  once.  Her 
tantalizing  smile  gave  place  to  an  expression  of 
deep  concern. 

"  Mr.  Gary,"  she  said,  "  don't  think  me  pre- 
sumptuous or  meddlesome.  I  can't  speak  as 
freely  to  Hester  as  I  can  to  you.  I  realize  how 
things  are.  Is  there  no  way  to  bring  you  to- 
gether? " 

He  smiled  sadly,  said  nothing  and  shook  his 
head. 

"  She  loves  you,"  she  said,  "  she  idolizes 
you ! " 


The  Morning  of  the  2yth        317 

"  I  fear  not,"  he  answered,  "  not  enough  to  sac- 
rifice her  opinion." 

"  Sacrifice !  "  she  almost  spoke  the  word  aloud. 
She  looked  at  him,  and  wondered  if  a  woman 
lived  that  would  not  give  all  but  her  honor  to  this 
man  before  her.  Her  eyes  spoke  her  admiration. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  is  it  because  of  that  un- 
fortunate Featherly  affair,  and  what  they  say  re- 
garding it." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  sadly. 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  said  impulsively.  "  It's 
just  like  her.  O,  if  she  had  only  one-half  my 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  one  ounce  of  the 
contempt  in  which  I  hold  it.  Bah !  " 

Her  tone  was  defiant.  She  could  at  that  mo- 
ment have  given  battle  to  the  world  single- 
handed. 

"  What  can  we  do,  Mr.  Gary?  I  will  not  re- 
main passive  and  see  this  thing  go  on.  Is  there 
anything  that  you  can  suggest?  " 

"  I  fear  not,"  he  said,  "  she  is  determined." 

Gary  had  learned  to  recognize  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton's  true  worth.  He  could  read  human  hearts 
and  faces,  and  he  was  satisfied  that  her  interest 
was  prompted  by  her  love  for  Hester.  She  was 
the  only  one  whose  interference  and  advice  he 
would  tolerate;  and  he  listened  to  her  with  a 
manly  courtesy  due  to  her  honesty  of  purpose. 

"  Mr.  Gary,"  her  voice  was  low,  but  there  was 
a  look  of  fixed  determination  in  her  eyes :  "  What 
I  am  about  to  say,  I  truly  believe,  and  I  have  some 


gi 8  Hester  Blair 

ground  on  which  to  base  my  belief.  Has  it  ever 
occurred  to  you  that  Hester  might  have  been 
married  to  Mr.  Featherly?  " 

John  started  and  gazed  at  her  for  a  full  min- 
ute. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  it  never  has." 

"  I  believe  it,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  don't  know 
why,  but  I  do.  It's  been  my  opinion  since  the 
night  of  Featherly's  death.  I  believe  that  Hes- 
ter is  bound  in  some  wTay  not  to  reveal  the  mar- 
riage. If  she  has  given  her  word,  she  would  die 
before  she  would  break  it." 

John  was  almost  stunned  by  Mrs.  Pendleton's 
assertion,  and  the  earnestness  with  which  she 
spoke.  He  had  never  considered  such  a  possi- 
bility; but  as  his  mind  reverted  to  the  night  of 
Featherly's  death,  it  appeared  to  him  now  more 
than  possible  that  Mrs.  Pendleton  had  quessed 
the  truth.  But  even  if  it  were  true  how  could 
the  knowledge  help  him?  If  Hester's  reasons  for 
remaining  silent  were  of  such  a  nature  that  she 
could  have  spoken  and  would  not,  and  have  saved 
her  name  and  the  suffering  she  had  endured,  how 
could  he  expect  that  she  would  now  break  her 
word.  No,  if  her  promise  had  stood  between 
them,  it  was  still  the  barrier  that  he  could  not 
overcome,  and — here  the  nature  of  the  man  came 
to  the  surface — he  would  not  ask  it  of  her. 

These  feelings  he  explained  to  Mrs.  Pendleton, 
until  interrupted  by  her. 

"  Dear  me ! "  she  exclaimed  with  some  irrita- 
tion, "  you're  two  simpletons,  both  of  you.  Such 


The  Morning  of  the   2/th        319 

twiddle-twaddle  notions  are  fit  only  for  school 
children.  Go  to  her !  Be  sensible !  Don't  ruin 
both  your  lives." 

He  smiled  at  her  impetuousness,  but  shook  his 
head. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  if  what  you  believe  is  true,  I 
would  not  ask  her  to  turn  from  what  she  con- 
siders her  duty." 

"  In  Heaven's  name  will  you  both  consider 
what  you  are  about?  Here  you  are  going  away 
to  some  unknown  land,  and  she — I  tell  you  she'll 
fret  her  heart  out.  She  has  some  romantic  idea 
about  not  breaking  her  promise,  and  you're  more 
to  blame  in  not  going  to  her,  throwing  your  arms 
around  her  neck,  making  her  understand  that  a 
whole  lifetime  of  anguish  and  a  promise  kept, 
cannot  equal  one  hour  of  married  bliss." 

She  was  carried  on  by  the  intensity  of  her  feel- 
ings and,  as  she  looked  at  him,  tall,  handsome, 
with  the  manly  bearing  that  women  lovej  she  be- 
lieved every  word  she  said ;  and  a  sigh,  eloquent 
in  the  consciousness  of  her  own  unmated  loneli- 
ness, escaped  her. 

Further  conversation  was  made  impossible  for 
the  time  being.  Someone  discovered  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton  talking  with  John,  and,  protesting  that 
they  would  not  countenance  her  designs  on  him, 
dragged  her  away.  Besides,  the  dance-board 
had  just  been  completed  in  the  orchard,  and  they 
wished  her  to  inspect  it.  They  had,  however, 
already  pronounced  it  "  too  lovely  for  any- 
thing." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

"  'TWILL  REMIND  ME  HOW  WELL  i  LOVED  YOU  " 

When  them  art  gone,  dear  friend,  when  far  away 
I'll  think  the  more  of  what  thou  art  to  me. 

Thy  portrait  in  my  heart  will  live  alway; 
Entwined  about  it,  love's  sweet  memory. 

SALLY  PITTS  had  not  forgotten  the  party. 
Long  before  preparations  had  begun,  she 
could  tell  the  exact  number  of  weeks  and 
days  to  the  event.     She  could  tell,  without  an 
effort  at  consulting  her  memory,  the  exact  num-. 
ber  of  persons  present  at  Ethel's  last  birthday 
party,  and  here  numbers  vanished  into  a  mist 
and  became  only  a  vague  memory. 

Neither  had  Sally  Pitts  been  forgotten.  She 
fondled  caressingly  an  album  given  her  by  Ethel, 
in  which  were  her  own,  Hester's,  and  John's 
portraits.  Hester  was  putting  the  finishing 
touches  to  a  new  dress,  and  had  sent  for  Sally  to 
try  it  on.  When  she  entered  the  sitting  room 
where  Hester  was  at  work,  and  sawr  the  pink  and 
white  creation,  she  exclaimed  loudly  and  pro- 
tested that  it  was  much  too  beautiful  to  wear. 
But  her  fingers  trembled  with  joy,  and  Hester 
helped  her  to  remove  her  old  faded  dress,  which 
Millie  had  made  after  the  pattern  of  one  she  had 

320 


"  How  Well  I  Loved  You  "       321 

worn  herself,  and  of  a  style  long  in  disuse  before 
gaily  was  born.  The  dress  removed,  the  long, 
slender  arms, — the  bones  of  the  neck  and  shoul- 
ders almost  forced  through  the  tightly  drawn 
flesh,  which  was  a  dull  marble  color  and  appar- 
ently bloodless, — filled  Hester  with  a  shuddering 
pity.  She  kissed  the  child,  and  patted  her  gently. 
Sally  laughed  gleefully  and  declared  that  she 
was  "  just  ashamed,  she  was  so  skinny." 

Hester  took  in  her  hand  the  little  bag  attached 
to  a  ribbon  that  Sally  wore  around  her  neck  and 
wondered  what  it  contained — but  even  a  child's 
secrets  are  to  be  respected,  and  she  said  nothing. 
A  shock  of  trembling  expectancy  seized  upon 
Sally,  and  her  heart  £tood  still,  for  what  seemed 
to  her,  countless  ages.  "  Why  didn't  Hessie  ask 
what  was  in  the  bag?  "  But  Hester  smiled,  un- 
conscious of  what  she  held  in  her  hand,  and  fitted 
on  the  new  dress. 

The  mirror  reflected  a  thing  of  beauty,  front 
and  rear,  flounces  and  frills.  Sally  was  in  a 
quandary  whether  to  laugh  or  cry  at  what  she 
saw  there ;  but  the  sight  of  her  album  stilled  her 
emotions  and  she  sat  beside  Hester  to  dilate  upon 
the  beauty  it  contained. 

"  Isn't  John  handsome?  "  she  exclaimed,  hold- 
ing the  album  before  her.  Which  womanly  ex- 
pression proved  a  discernment  far  in  advance  of 
her  years. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Hester,  "  and  as  good  as  he 
is  handsome." 


322  Hester  Blair 

"  Don't  you  love  him,  Miss  Hester?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do,  Sally  dear."  A  soft  light  shone 
in  Hester's  eyes,  that  deepened  as  she  heard  a 
step  cross  the  dining-room  floor,  pausing  at  the 
threshold  of  the  room  where  they  were  sitting, 
their  backs  to  the  door. 

Sally  scanned  the  portrait  with  a  critical  gaze. 
"  Hasn't  he  lovely  eyes?  "  she  asked. 

"  Em !  Just  a  little  squint,  it  seems  to 
me." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  the  child  asked,  looking 
up  into  her  companion's  face. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so." 

Sally  held  the  album  before  her  and  turned 
her  head  to  one  side.  "  I  don't  think  so."  Then 
after  a  moment's  pause — "  and  his  forehead  is  so 
high." 

"  Let  me  see,"  Hester  said.  She  took  the  album 
and  studied  the  picture  intently.  "  Not  a  very 
intellectual  forehead,  Sally.  Quite  the  contrary. 
Em!  very  common-place." 

"  Do  you  think  so?  " 

"  Yes,"  Hester  replied,  handing  the  album 
back,  "  quite  ordinary." 

Sally  was  perplexed  but  not  convinced,  "  and 
his  mouth  is  so  beautiful  when  he  smiles?  "  she 
said. 

"  A  weak  mouth,  Sally.  See,  the  lines  about 
his  mouth  show  weakness." 

Sally's  face  betrayed  that  her  opinion  of  the 
mouth  was  still  unchanged,  She  dearly  wished 


"  How  Well  I  Loved  You  "       323 

to  find  some  feature  that  they  could  agree  upon. 
Ah !  she  had  discovered  it. 

"  Hasn't — he — lovely — hair?  " 

She  waited  in  gloating  anticipation.  Surely 
nothing  could  be  said  against  the  hair,  that  had 
just  a  little  wave  in  it  to  bring  out  the  gloss. 

"  Well,"  came  the  condescending  reply,  "  If  it 
weren't  for  the  color.  It's  a  sort  of  neutral  color. 
But  then,  most  everyone  has  lovely  hair,  Sally." 

"  I  think  he's  just  beautiful,"  was  Sally's  pro- 
nounced opinion. 

"  O  just  passable,  Sally.     Just  passable." 

The  child  looked  up  quickly.  There  was  a 
quizzical  expression  mingled  with  doubt  in  her 
eyes.  "  But  you  said  you  loved  him,  Miss  Hes- 
ter," she  said. 

The  figure  in  the  doorway  started. 

"  Did  I,  Sally? "  Hester's  tone  was  incredu- 
lous. Then  as  a  sort  of  compromise,  "  Well,  per- 
haps I  did,  but  we  must  love  all  our  friends, 
Sally." 

A  step  behind  her  moved  Sally  to  look  around. 

"  O  John,"  she  said,  "  why  didn't  you  come 
sooner  and  hear  what  we  said  about  your  pic- 
ture?" 

"  Perhaps  I  can  guess,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 
"  Eyes  with  a  distinct  squint, — "  Sally's  eyes 
sought  Hester's  in  a  surprised  look — "  weak 
mouth,  receding  forehead, — not  at  all  intellectual 
— quite  the  contrary,  hair  of  no  color  at  all, 
and—" 


324  Hester  Blair 

"  O,  I  don't  believe  Miss  Hester  meant  a  word 
of  it.  But  that  isn't  all  she  said — " 

"  Sally,  Sally !  "  Hester  exclaimed  reprovingly. 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  the  kitchen  and  tell  Aunt 
Millie." 

In  an  endeavor  to  see  the  new  dress  from  all 
points  of  view,  she  nearly  stumbled  in  going  in 
search  of  Millie. 

"  Hester,"  John  said,  leaning  over  the  rocking 
chair  in  which  she  sat,  "  How  do  you  like  the 
word-picture?  " 

"  The  word-picture  will  fade  into  the  mist  of 
nothingness:  your  portrait  will  live  when  you 
are  gone." 

He  leaned  over  the  back  of  the  chair  and 
pressed  his  cheek  lightly  to  hers. 

« 'Twill  be  a  reminder  that  you  once  loved  me," 
he  said. 

"  'Twill  remind  me  only  of  how  well  I  love 
you." 

"  Hester,"  he  said  gently,  "  if  time  should 
change  your  answer,  and  you  can  view  things 
differently,  will  you  send  for  me?  " 

"  John,  I  can  give  you  no  hope.  Can  the  pain 
an  unkind  word  occasions  ever  be  recalled?  All 
the  science  in  the  world  cannot  restore  the  bloom 
of  a  faded  flower,  nor  yet  can  the  sun's  warmth 
bring  back  life  to  the  buds  that  have  been  nipped 
by  the  frost.  Once  a  doubt  is  cast  upon  a 
woman's  name,  it  follows  her,  shadow-like.  Try 
to  forget,  John  dear,  try  to  forget." 


"  How  Well  I  Loved  You  "       325 

He  did  not  answer,  but  walked  to  the  window 
and  looked  out  at  the  group  on  the  lawn. 

Ethel  came  to  the  open  window.  She  scanned 
his  countenance  disapprovingly. 

"  Now,  John  Gary,  can  you  give  me  any  rea- 
sonable excuse  for  wearing  such  a  forlorn  look 
on  my  birthday?  " 

"  No,  Mistress  Ethel,"  with  an  attempt  at  a 
laugh.  "  Eh  faith !  I  cannot,  unless  I  was  think- 
ing that  after  to-morrow  I  would  not  have  any- 
one to  torment." 

"  After  to-morrow !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  you're 
not  going  so  soon?  I  won't  have  it !" 

"  Looks  so,"  he  said,  "  In  three  days  I  shall  be 
sailing,  sailing  on  the  ocean  blue,"  he  sang. 
'  "  Hester,  do  you  hear  that?  and  you  sit  there 
as  unmoved  as  if  he  were  only  going  down  to  the 
wharf." 

Hester  heard.  She  smiled.  "  Never  mind, 
Ethel.  After  all,  it's  good  to  have  your  friends 
go  away;  they  can  write  and  tell  you  all  about 
things,  and  what  a  grand  time  they  are  having. 
One  always  thinks  more  of  one's  friends 
when  they  are  not  with  them.  You'll  write, 
John?" 

"  Of  course,"  he  replied. 

"  By  the  way,  John  dear,"  Hester  said,  "  will 
you  be  here  for  the  opening  of  the  dance?  " 

"  Of  course,"  he  answered,  "  how  many  dances 
will  you  give  me?  " 

"  As  many  as  you  ask  for,"  she  answered. 


326  Hester  Blair 

Ethel  interposed,  "  Now  Hessie,  that's  not  fair ! 
It's  my  birthday,  and  John  should  dance  with 
me,  at  least,  part  of  the  time." 

John  smiled,  "  So  I  shall,  Ethy  dear,  if  you 
will  kindly  dislodge  those  wrinkles  from  your 
forehead,  for  its  alabaster  surface  was  never 
meant  to  be  disfigured  by  them.  So,"  he  brushed 
her  forehead  lightly  with  his  hand,  "  now  chase 
away  that  semblance  of  a  pout  from  the  corners 
of  those  ruby  red  lips,  so,"  he  kissed  her  on  the 
lips  and  laughed. 

"  There  John  Gary,  you're  horrid." 

"  I  know  I  am,"  he  laughed,  "  and  I  feel  like  a 
thief.  Here,  I'll  give  it  back." 

Millie  fluttered  into  the  room  in  a  state  of 
nervous  excitement,  She  appeared  as  if  border- 
ing on  a  collapse,  but  was,  in  fact,  far  from  it. 
She  was  in  a  state  of  rapturous  flustration.  She 
had  a  thousand  and  one  things  to  do,  but  refused 
help  from  one  and  all  alike.  She  said  that  she 
could  not  possibly  have  everything  ready  on  time, 
and  was  inwrardly  conscious  and  certain  that 
everything,  to  the  last  finishing  touches  to  the 
table,  would  be  ready.  She  fumed  and  fretted, 
but  withal  was  in  a  state  of  delight  bordering  on 
frenzy,  for  that  she  had  something  real  and  tan- 
gible to  fret  about. 

"  There,  Hessie,  I've  got  the  last  pie  baked, 
and  in  the  pantry  a  coolin'.  The  frostin'  on  th' 
ribbon  cake  couldn't  be  better,  leastwise  I 
couldn't  make  it  so ;  and  the  sponge  cake's  in  the 


"  How  Well  I  Loved  You  "       327 

oven.  If  thet  cake  falls,  I'll  be  ashamed  ever  ter 
show  niy  face  in  the  village  agin." 

"  Don't  fret,  Millie  dear,"  Hessie  said,  "  your 
reputation  as  a  cook  is  secure." 

"  Sally  Hopkins'  goin'  ter  help  me  ter  set  th' 
table;  an'  Hessie,  of  all  things!  Myria  Blindy 
Gates  a  goin'  ter  wear  thet  pink  dress  she  wore  to 
Ann  Prouty's  weddin'.  Her  aunt  used  ter  wear 
it  when  I  was  a  young  girl.  Myria  hed  it  made 
over,  an'  she  wears  it  every  time  she  gets  half  a 
chance.  I've  got  my  opinion  of  Myria,  an'  /  call 
her  a  bold  piece.  Ethy  dear,  come  with  me  and 
take  a  peek  at  the  sponge  cake.  Ef  it's  fell — 
well  there! " 

With  a  gesture  of  despair  she  fluttered  back 
to  the  kitchen,  followed  by  Ethel. 

Following  the  sound  of  hammering,  Bill  Blake 
came  upon  the  industrious  Slack,  putting  the  fin- 
ishing touches  to  the  band-stand.  He  paused 
and  grinned. 

"  Hello,  Bill.     Gosh !  got  on  a  biled  shirt !  " 

Bill's  mouth  spread  in  a  smile,  self-conscious 
of  his  splendor. 

"  None  er  yer  dern  jokes  now,  Slacky.  Yer 
needn't  think  yer  goin'  ter  do  all  the  mashin'  ter 
day.  Ther  be  others  ken  discount  yer  on  looks. 
Say,  Fenton's  sneakin'  round  down  in  th'  vil- 
lage. Wonder  ef  he's  plannin'  on  comin'  ter  th' 
party?" 

"  D'know,"  answered  Slack,  "  ef  he's  wise,  he 
won't." 


328 


Hester  Blair 


"  He,  he,"  laughed  Bill,  "  Wonder  ef  he'd  like 
another  ride?  " 

Slack  remained  silent. 

"  Ther's  an  old  gent  ben  down  ter  th'  parson- 
age sense  th'  mornin'  train  got  in,  examinin'  th' 
books  as  were  saved  from  th'  fire.  Has  one  o' 
them  magnifyin'  glasses.  Wonder  what  he's  up 
ter?  » 

"  O,  he's  one  o'  them  cranks,  pVaps,  as  write 
fer  th'  newspapers."  Slack's  hammer  came  down 
on  the  boards  viciously.  "  Look  here,  Bill !  "  he 
said,  "  ef  Fenton  tries  ter  cut  up  any  shines  here 
ter  day — "  he  paused  and  looked  at  Bill,  "  well 
he  won't,  that's  all."  Bill  grinned  and  nodded 
his  approval. 

"  Slack  Dorkins."  The  call  came  from  the 
house.  Slack  dropped  his  hammer,  and  Bill  was 
left  alone. 

Mrs.  Pendleton  was  ill  at  ease.  The  love  affair 
of  one  of  her  protege's  promised  to  bear  fruit  be- 
fore the  sun  set.  She  had  Slack  trained  to  a 
point  where  further  rehearsing  seemed  but  a 
waste  of  time.  He  carried  himself  with  the  bear- 
ing of  a  man  who  already  tastes  the  sweets  of 
victory.  He  smiled  condescendingly  on  the  world 
at  large;  but  tempered  his  smile  with  a  tender 
meaning  when  he  met  "  the  widder."  But  de- 
spair seemed  to  wait  on  her  efforts  in  John's  be- 
half. She  could  brave  a  man,  could  talk  to  John 
as  if  he  were  a  boy;  but  she  hesitated  to  broach 


"  How  Well  I  Loved  You"       329 

the  subject  uppermost  in  her  mind  to  Hester, 
who,  smilingly  complacent,  appeared  the  calmest 
of  the  members  of  the  household.  She  was  an 
enigma  to  Mrs.  Pendleton,  who  could  not  wholly 
understand  her.  But  she  was  satisfied  that  Hes- 
ter's tranquillity  was  assumed,  and  that  behind  it 
her  heart  was  heavy  with  sorrow.  But  no  word 
escaped  Hester,  and  Mrs.  Pendleton,  from  her 
experience  with  her  in  New  York,  knew  that 
she  could  not  be  approached  with  offers  of  advice 
or  sympathy.  She  was,  however,  a  determined 
little  woman.  In  her  experience,  the  wormwood 
of  defeat  was  still  to  be  tasted.  She  sought  the 
bench  on  the  bluff,  which  seemed  especially  de- 
signed for  lovers  and  lovers'  confidences.  The 
reader  may  judge  of  the  logic  of  her  reasoning, 
by  the  following,  addressed,  apparently,  to  the 
waves,  that  chattered  in  all  kinds  of  languages  at 
the  foot  of  the  cliff. 

"  If  Hester  and  Featherly  were  married,  what 
was  the  occasion  for  the  secrecy?  If  it  weren't 
on  her  account,  then  it  must  have  been  on  his. 
Em !  "  a  long  drawn  out  exclamation.  "  Feath- 
erly's  father's  second  marriage  was  disastrous. 
The  world  knows  him  as  a  woman  hater.  I  knew 
him  to  be  a  polished  gentleman,  with  one  beset- 
ting sin, — an  idolatrous  love  for  Ralph,  and  a 
fear  that  he  would  marry.  Why  isn't  it  probable 
that  Hester,  knowing  this,  made  some  kind  of  a 
promise  not  to  betray  the  marriage  while  the 


330  Hester  Blair 

father  lived.  She  never  considered  the  possibil- 
ity of  Ralph's  death.  When  he  was  dying  he 
tried  to  tell  something  to  his  father." 

She  thought  long  and  deeply.  The  laughter  of 
the  guests  from  the  house  brought  a  frown  to  her 
face  that  was  not  at  all  becoming.  "  The  mag- 
pies ! "  she  said.  She  tried  to  look  very  savage. 
She  did  not  succeed.  "  Why  can't  they  keep 
quiet  and  let  me  think?  "  People  said  that  she 
never  had  a  serious  thought  in  her  life.  They 
were  mistaken.  That  much  quoted  element  of 
society,  designated  "  the  people,"  almost  always 
is  mistaken.  For  out  of  a  bewildering  array  of 
ideas,  suggestions,  conjectures  and  resolutions, 
this  very  sage  and  fixed  resolve  she  whispered  to 
the  sea:  "I  believe  it;  and  I'll  act  upon  it. 
Before  John  gets  away  I'll  see  Ralph's  father,  if 
I  have  to  go  to  New  York  to  clear  up  this  affair." 

At  that  moment  the  gentleman  in  question  was 
scanning  the  partly  burned,  and  much  defaced 
records  in  the  village  parsonage.  But  this  she 
did  not  know. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

LOVE'S   REWARD 

To  them  that  wait,  to  them  that  trust, — 

Their  faith  unyielding,  firm,  entire, 
To  them  there  comes,  as  come  it  must, 

The  fullness  of  the  heart's  desire. 
By  weight  and  measure  fair  and  true, 

Doth  time  to  them,  stern  justice  yield; 
To  them  such  meed  as  is  their  due; 

To  them  the  power  that  victors  wield. 

It  matters  not  what  stand  between; 

It  matters  not  the  Fates  delay: — 
The  hand  of  destiny  unseen 

Is  guiding  us  upon  our  way. 
Bide,  then,  thy  time — be  staunch,  be  true; 

Mayhap  good  Fortune  tarries  late. 
Be  ready  when  it  calls  to  you, 

And  answering,  cry, — come  thou,  I  wait. 

(£    A     BE  there  many  men  coming?  " 

\  Mrs.  Pendleton  looked  her  loveliest 

-£JL  in  a  jaunty  sailor  hat  around  which  was 
loosely  coiled  a  band  of  white  tulle,  that  fell  in 
streamers  from  the  brim.  The  plainness  of  her 
white  duck  suit  was  relieved  by  a  bunch  of  roses 
that  was  fastened  to  her  corsage.  Dainty,  nar- 
row pointed  tan  shoes  completed  her  costume. 
But  it  was  the  trim  figure,  the  smooth  round 

331 


332  Hester  Blair 

cheeks  browned  by  the  sun  and  sea  air,  and  the 
bluest  of  blue  eyes  that  ever  gladdened  a  lover's 
heart,  or  brought  despair  to  a  luckless  suitor — 
and  there  had  -been  many — that  made  your  heart- 
beats quicken;  and  you  were  glad  to  look 
at  her;  for  it  made  you  feel  at  peace  with 
yourself  and  the  world,  and  reconciled  you  to 
much  that  was  unpleasant.  She  had  the  power 
— all  the  more  potent  because  of  its  unconscious- 
ness— of  making  you  believe  in  things ;  anyhow, 
of  believing  in  Mrs.  Pendleton  while  you  were 
with  her.  There  was  a  genuineness  about  her 
as  rare  as  it  was  exhilarating: — a  freshness,  a 
cleanness  of  heart  and  of  mind  that  was  reflected 
in  the  eyes  that  met  yours  in  a  frank,  fearless 
gaze. 

Her  pupil,  strong  in  the  newly  acquired  art  of 
the  modern  love  chase,  looked  at  her  with  ill-con- 
cealed admiration. 

"  I've  engaged  two  or  three  partners  fer  yer," 
he  said. 

Millie  sniffed  the  air  disdainfully.  "  Some 
folks  are  as  silly  as  some  others,"  she  said. 

This  remark  was  of  so  general  a  nature  that 
no  one  seemed  inclined  to  claim  the  honor  of  in- 
viting it. 

"  So  good  of  you,  Mr.  Dorkins,"  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton's  voice  was  tenderly  appreciative.  "  I  trust 
they  can  all  dance  as  well  as  you.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  beauty  of  the  Chorus  Jig  that  yon 
danced  for  us  in  New  York." 


Love's  Reward  333 

Slack  was  seized  with  a  paroxysm  of  coughing. 
He  flashed  a  danger  signal  of  warning  at  Mrs, 
Pendleton. 

Millie's  eyes  shot  fiery  gleams,  but  her  voice 
was  sweetly  solicitous  as  she  asked : 

"  Hedn't  yer  better  hev  a  little  balsam  fer  thet 
cough,  Slacky?  " 

"  Guess  I  won't  need  it  now,  Millie,  thank 
yer.  You  were  a  sayin',  Mrs.  Pendleton — O  yes, 
'bout  the  dance.  The  first  set's  Millie's."  He 
glanced  timidly  at  her.  She  was  looking  into 
space,  and  her  lips  formed  the  words, — "  Chorus 
Jig."  He  cast  a  hurried,  troubled  look  at  Mrs. 
Pendleton.  Her  eyes  reassuring  him,  he  con- 
tinued :  "  The  second  set,  ef  yer're  not  en- 
gaged— " 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  she  answered.  "  Do 
you  know,  it  was  only  yesterday  that  I  heard 
Miss  Gates  speaking  of  how  well  you  danced." 

"  Miss  Gates,"  echoed  Millie.  She  said  no 
more.  The  look  she  cast  at  Slack  proclaimed  her 
unspoken  opinion. 

He  winced,  but  Mrs.  Pendleton  whipped  up 
his  courage  with  a  look. 

"  O,  you  mean  Myria  Belinda?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  charming  young  person,"  Mrs.  Pendle- 
ton observed,  "  a  quaint  individuality." 

"  Emm !  "  this  from  Millie. 

"  O  yes,"  said  Slack,  "  she's  very  individual. 
She  hed  a  good  bit  er  property  left  ter  her.  Her 
Uncle  Ed.  died  year  er  so  ago,  an'  left  Myria 


334  Hester  Blair 

pretty  well  fixed.     O,  she's  right  up  an'  around, 
Myria  is." 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Dorkins,  I  fancied  she  was  more  than 
an  ordinary  acquaintance.  O  you  men!  you 
men !  One  never  can  tell." 

Millie  didn't  speak,  but  her  look  plainly  said 
that  she  refused  to  consider  Myria — even  re- 
motely. 

"  Will  yer  go  an'  fix  yerself  up,  Slack  Dor- 
kins?  It's  nigh  on  ter  three  o'clock  an'  th'  folks 
'11  soon  begin  ter  come." 

She  followed  him  into  the  house.  Mrs.  Pen- 
dleton  turned  to  John  who  approached. 

"  Mr.  Gary,  tell  me !  have  you  spoken  to  Hes- 
ter? " 

"  I  have  seen  her,"  he  replied,  "  but  did  not 
speak  to  her  of  what  you  said.  It  would  do  no 
good." 

"  How  can  you  tell?  You  are  like  two  roman- 
tic school  girls.  I've  no  patience  with  you.  This 
much  is  certain :  you're  not  going  to  South  Amer- 
ica if  I  can  stop  you.  Anyway,  you're  not  going 
alone.  Heaven  deliver  us  from  the  twaddle  that 
fills  young  lovers'  minds.  Both  of  you  should  be 
spanked,  and  put  on  bread  and  water  till  you 
come  to  your  senses." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Pendleton,  you  don't  know — " 

"  Don't  know  her !  Don't  I  know  that  she's 
eating  her  heart  out  because  you  are  going;  and 
allowing  some  foolish  notion  to  stand  in  the  way 


Love's  Reward  335 

of  her  life  happiness  and  yours?  Don't  know 
her,  indeed ! " 

Confidences  for  that  day  were  at  an  end.  It 
lacked  but  a  few  minutes  of  three  o'clock,  and 
young  Stevens  led  the  shout  that  heralded  the 
coming  of  the  villagers. 

They  came,  singly  and  in  pairs,  radiant  with 
smiles,  and  colors  that  rivaled  the  flower  be- 
sprinkled fields.  They  were  in  goodly  number, 
for  the  prejudice  of  the  good  people  had  given 
way  before  the  prospect  of  Millie's  feast,  and  the 
very  human  desire  that  other  eyes  than  their  own 
should  behold  their  finery,  startling  in  its  unique- 
ness, and  daring  in  its  originality.  Their  flower- 
bedecked  hats  nodded  in  the  summer  breeze,  as  if 
conscious  of  a  seasoned  knowledge,  and  with  the 
familiarity  of  ripened  age:  for  they  had  long 
done  duty,  and  still  bloomed  in  faded  loveliness. 
Their  wearers,  gowned  in  flounces  and  frills,  am- 
bled joyfully  along,  conscious  only  of  the  admir- 
ing glances  directed  at  themselves.  They  were 
there  to  conquer  hearts,  and  who  could  withstand 
their  charms,  which  seemed  to  shame  the  flowers 
by  comparison?  Who  indeed! 

And  their  male  companions?  The  costumes 
that  became  their  rough,  manly  homeliness, — 
which  was  not  without  charm, — they  had  dis- 
carded; and  they  burdened  themselves  with  an 
attempt  at  gentility  that  was  clumsily  ridiculous, 
but  pathetic  in  its  self-consciousness.  They  were 


336  Hester  Blair 

not  a  bad  lot,  nor  were  they  ill-looking;  but  the 
better  part  of  their  nature  fretted  and  protested 
that,  in  their  case,  clothes  did  not  make  or  fit 
the  man.  They  had  disfigured  themselves  with 
white,  home-laundered  shirts,  whose  fronts — 
starched  to  a  rigid  stiffness — irritated  them. 
They  were  ill  at  ease  in  their  "  store  clothes," 
and  their  grease-soaked  boots  gave  evidence  of 
having  lately  resisted  an  attempt  at  polish- 
ing. 

The  "  Commodore  "  was  attired  in  her  custom- 
ary print  dress,  and,  when  she  didn't  look  dis- 
approval at  the  fantastically  colored  and  shaped 
costumes  of  her  neighbors,  she  was  authorita- 
tively self-contained.  She  smiled  benignly  on 
her  companions,  and  told  them,  with  the  utmost 
good-nature,  that  she  considered  them  "  a  set  of 
giddy  little  fools."  No  one  cared  to  dispute  her, 
and  they  complacently  tittered  among  them- 
selves. 

They  straggled  up  the  hill  and  were  met  by  the 
guests  with  smiles  of  welcome.  Slack  stood  be- 
fore the  house  ready  to  receive  them.  Then  it 
was  that  the  merry-makers  tasted  their  first  sur- 
prised joy,  for  it  was  not  often  that  their  eyes 
were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  Slack,  arrayed  as 
they  now  beheld  him.  His  best  suit  embraced 
the  plum-colored  waistcoat  and  flaming  cravat, 
which  had  elicited  exclamations  of  awed  admira- 
tion from  the  guests  at  the  Featherly  mansion. 
These  he  wore  with  a  recklessness  that  was  in 


Love's  Reward  337 

keeping  with  his  crowning  glory — his  hair.  He 
had  made  no  effort  to  comb  it,  and  they  felt,  when 
they  beheld  him,  that  he  was  still  their  Slack; 
that  even  his  costume,  effulgent  though  it  was, 
could  not  disguise  him ;  and  they  loved  him  the 
more. 

He  led  the  way,  and  waved  them  on  to  the 
orchard,  where  the  dance-board  had  been  erected. 
Millie  and  Ethel  followed  with  the  members  of 
the  household,  chatting  their  delight  and  boister- 
ously happy.  Mrs.  Pendleton  brought  up  the 
rear,  her  face  wreathed  in  a  triumphant  smile. 
She  awaited  developments.  They  unrolled  them- 
selves without  warning.  The  star  of  her  pupil 
was  in  the  ascendant.  With  a  now  or  never  look 
he  turned  to  the  wearer  of  the  pink  dress : 

"  Myria  Belinda  Gates,  yer  jest  lookin'  out  er 
sight !  "  Slack  accompanied  the  declaration  with 
a  coquettish  chuckle  under  Myria's  chin  that 
made  that  young  lady — the  term  is  here  used  in 
deference  to  the  pink  gown — toss  her  head,  and 
turn  the  color  of  the  gorgeous  ribbons  that 
adorned  her  angular  form.  Gasping  with  pleas- 
ure, she  protested :  "  You  git  out,  Slack  Dor- 
kins!" 

But  Slack  had  no  such  intention.  He  took 
Myria's  hand  in  his  own  and  looked  unutterably 
happy.  In  his  excess  of  emotion,  he  managed  to 
say  with  a  sigh,  faltering  but  love  burdened: 
"  the  sight  o'  yer  makes  me  feel  twenty  years 
younger." 


338  Hester  Blair 

Myria  cooed  with  pleasure,  and  her  heart 
fluttered  like  a  dove  caught  on  the  wing. 

Mrs.  Pendleton  smiled  with  pride.  "  He's  an 
artist,"  she  whispered. 

But  Millie — she  glared  at  him,  and  wondered 
if  she  were  awake.  How  did  he  dare?  This 
man !  Hers !  standing  there  before  her  very  eyes, 
and  holding  the  hand  of  that  bold  huzzy,  who 
was  tittering  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

"  Slack  Dorkins ! "  she  almost  screamed  the 
name.  But  Slack  did  not  hear.  He  had  a  smile 
and  a  handshake  for  all;  a  tender  word  for  the 
fair  flowers  of  the  village;  then  returned  to 
Myria,  and  his  eyes  said  to  her  many  and  beauti- 
ful things. 

Millie  was  rooted  to  the  ground.  Surprise  had 
given  place  to  amazement,  and  angry  resentment 
was  struggling  within  her.  Seth  Binks  ap- 
proached. He  stood  between  Millie  and  the  ob- 
ject of  her  wrath.  She  tried  to  look  over  his 
shoulder,  and  he  danced  before  her  trying  to  in- 
vite her  notice. 

"  Millie,"  said  Binks,  "  I—" 

"  Slack  Dorkins,  do  you  hear?  "  There  was 
no  mistaking  the  tone.  It  was  a  command ;  but 
it  told  of  annoyance  beyond  the  power  of  woman 
to  bear. 

Slack  was  deaf  to  all  but  Myria's  voice,  and 
blind  to  all  save  the  eyes  that  looked  trustingly 
into  his  own.  Mrs.  Pendleton  nodded  her  ap- 
proval. Things  in  her  world  couldn't  be  going 


Love's  Reward  339 

better.  Binks  made  another  attempt  to  interest 
Millie.  She  couldn't  look  through  him,  so  she 
pivoted  from  one  side  of  his  bulky  form  to  the 
other  in  her  endeavor  to  see  her  unheeding  lord, 
who  was  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
color  of  Myria's  eyes. 

"  I  were  about  to  say,  Millie — "  began  Binks. 

But  she  didn't  heed  him,  neither  did  she  see 
him.  There  were  but  two  people  in  Millie's 
world  at  that  moment.  One  of  them  wore  a  pink 
dress;  the  other  looked  with  love-lorn  fervor  at 
the  wearer  of  that  hateful  dress,  and  smiled. 

Millie  switched  her  skirts  about.  She  looked 
away  from  Slack  and  Myria  and  arranged  her 
dress  nervously.  This  was  something  that  she 
could  not  and  would  not  put  up  with.  Then 
someone  giggled.  The  giggle  became  contagious ; 
the  laugh  developed  into  a  roar ;  and  arms,  heads 
and  bodies  danced  in  unison  to  the  music  of  their 
voices.  Millie  turned  her  head.  Yes,  they  were 
still  deep  in  smiling  confidences;  and  Myria's 
hand  was  in  Slack's.  This  was  too  much.  There 
was  a  limit  even  to  her  endurance.  Of  course 
she  didn't  care,  but  that  pink-gowned  huzzy 
should  be  taught — well  she'd  see. 

"  Myria  Belinda  Gates,  I'd  jest  hev  yer  under- 
stand— " 

But  Myria  was  oblivious  of  all  else  but  the  man 
before  her.  Millie  would  have  them  know  then 
and  there  that  she  would  have  no  such  exhibition. 
She  was  determined,  and  her  carriage  was  ma- 


340 


Hester  Blair 


jestic  as  she  approached  the  pair,  who  were  too 
absorbed  in  each  other  to  notice  the  scornful 
glance  that  she  fixed  upon  them.  She  walked 
forward  quickly.  Then,  taking  hold  of  the  arm 
of  the  inconstant  Slack,  and  tearing  him  away 
from  the  blushing  Myria,  she  led  him  to  where 
she  had  been  standing.  A  hush  of  expectancy  set- 
tled on  the  assembly.  Something  was  going  to 
happen.  Millie  wasted  neither  words  nor  time. 

"  Slack  Dorkins,  what  d'yer  mean  by  this  er 
flirtin'?" 

"  I've  waited  fer  yer  fer  th'  past  twenty  years," 
he  said,  "  an'  I'm  gettin'  tired  er  waitin'.  I'm 
not  so  young  as  I  wer',  but  I'm  young  'nough  ter 
feel  frisky  when  the  gals  come  around.  Time  I 
wer'  gettin'  married,  Millie,  an'  I  don't  get  much 
encouragement  from  you." 

"  Well — I — swan !  Slack  Dorkins,  yer  jest 
take  my  breath  away !  " 

He  looked  at  her  quizzically. 

"  'Tain't  so  sudden  as  it  might  be.  I've  ben 
askin'  yer  fer  th'  past  twenty  years." 

"  Well,  I  want  yer  ter  understand  one  thing, 
Slacky,  I  ain't  goin'  ter  let  no  one  else  hev  yer." 

He  might  be  forgiven  for  the  chuckle  that  pre- 
ceded his  words. 

"  Then  it's  yes,  Millie?  " 

She  cast  a  withering  glance  at  the  wearer  of 
the  pink  dress. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  I'll  jest  marry  yer  ter  keep 


Love's  Reward  341 

yer  from  gettin'  in  ter  wuss  hands.  No  one 
else'd  know  how  ter  take  keer  er  yer." 

It  was  only  a  glance  that  passed  between  Mrs. 
Pendleton  and  the  man  who  beamed  upon  his 
friends  and  the  world  with  a  look  of  idiotic  de- 
light. To  Slack  was  flashed  a  congratulatory, 
"  good  for  you ;  "  his  eyes  conveyed  the  response, 
that  said  almost  audibly :  "  I  tell  yer."  Even 
Millie  could  not  intercept  the  look,  and  only 
teacher  and  pupil  understood  its  meaning. 

The  orchestra — a  violin  and  a  bass  viol — was 
tuning  up,  the  complaining  tones  of  the  instru- 
ments persistently  refusing  to  conform  to  a  uni- 
form pitch.  The  violin,  with  reckless  disregard 
for  its  companion,  established  a  pitch  that  in- 
vited disintegration  and  discord,  and  squeaked 
a  challenge  to  the  more  lumbersome  member  of 
the  family  to  follow  its  lead.  The  bass  viol 
groaned  disapprovingly  and  labored,  like  a  small 
boat  in  a  heavy  sea,  to  climb  to  the  giddy  heights 
of  its  aristocratic  tone  leader.  It  strained  la- 
mentingly  and,  refusing  to  risk  its  own  anatomy, 
sank,  with  resigned  squeaks,  a  quarter  of  a  tone 
below  the  pitch  of  the  violin,  and  awaited,  with 
tense  drawn  strings,  the  disruption  of  its  daring 
dictator. 

The  leader  of  the  band,  with  a  wave  of  his 
fiddle-bow,  commanded  attention : 

"  Ladies  and  gents,  take  yer  partners  for  the 
Virginia  Reel.  Mr.  Slack  Dorkins  will  lead  off 


342  Hester  Blair 

with  the  future  Mrs.  Slack  Dorkins,  who  comes 
nigh  ter  bein'  th'  best  cook  'n  housekeeper  in  this 
yer  county." 

A  roar  of  applause  greeted  this  delicate  com- 
pliment to  Millie;  and  proved  the  speaker's 
knowledge  and  judgment  of  cooking  far  in  ad- 
vance of  that  diviner,  but  less  satisfying  art — 
music.  A  poor  cook  can  elicit  more  soul-stirring 
discords  than  the  worst  musician  that  ever  lived. 
The  guests  formed  for  the  dance  and  the  band 
after  a  final  attempt  at  tuning  up  began. 

With  a  flourish  and  a  bow,  Slack  went  down 
the  center,  and  as  he  returned,  cast  a  scowling 
look  of  disapproval  at  the  leader  of  the  band. 
The  music  was  not  to  his  liking.  Slack  turned 
and  pivoted,  balanced  and  swung  the  next,  and 
kept  time  to  the  discordant  music,  the  players 
wrestling  for  supremacy  in  a  deadly  duel  of 
sound. 

Millie,  not  to  be  outdone,  tripped  off  the  fig- 
ures with  the  agility  of  a  girl  in  her  teens.  Hes- 
ter and  John  watched  the  dancers  with  eager  and 
admiring  interest,  and  joined  in  the  applause 
that  greeted  the  dancing  efforts  of  Slack  and  his 
partner.  They  finished  the  figure,  and  a  second 
couple  took  their  turn. 

With  a  wave  of  his  arm  Slack  called  to  the 
intrepid  leader  of  the  band. 

"  Hi,  Jake,  yer  fiddle  ain't  within  a  row  of 
apple  trees  er  being  in  tune.  What's  the  matter 
with  er?  " 


Love's  Reward  343 

This  was  a  reflection  on  Jake's  musical  ability, 
and  he  resented  it.  He  stopped  playing  and 
stood  up.  The  bass  viol  boomed  on  alone,  and 
the  player,  spurred  on  to  extra  exertion,  per- 
formed most  remarkable  feats  with  his  bow.  Of 
melody,  there  was  none;  but  he  ground  out  the 
time,  and  the  dancers  responded  with  their  feet. 

"  Come  down  here,"  yelled  Slack  to  the  irate 
Jake,  "  Millie'll  give  yer  a  few  pints  on  dancin', 
an'  I'll  show  yer  a  trick  er  two  in  fiddlin'." 

Jake  accepted  the  challenge,  and  Slack  took 
his  place  beside  the  bass  player.  He  adjusted 
the  strings  of  the  violin  to  the  pitch  of  the  bass 
viol,  and  dashed  into  the  music  of  the  old-time 
country  dance  in  perfect  tune  with  the  bass.  Not 
content  with  the  simple  melody,  he  added  em- 
bellishments and  variations  of  his  own,  and 
played  up  and  down  and  across  the  strings  with 
double  stops,  chords  and  frills,  and  even  Millie, 
overcome  by  the  exhibition,  vowed  she  wouldn't 
have  believed  it ;  and  the  dance  came  to  an  end. 

Mrs.  Bagly  seemed  anxious. 

"  Ther'll  be  an  awful  time,"  she  remarked  to  a 
neighbor,  "  when  Mr.  Fenton  gets  here." 

"  D'yer  think  he'll  come? "  her  companion 
asked. 

"  I  heered  him  say  down  ter  th'  store  thet  he 
wer'  a  comin'." 

"  O,  I  do  hope  ther*  won't  be  no  trouble." 

"Serves  Hessie  right!"  Mrs..  Bagly  looked 
virtuously  indignant.  "  She'd  no  business  tryin' 


344  Hester  Blair 

ter  fool  us  all  this  time.  /  knowed  it  from  th> 
fust." 

The  dancers  were  forming  for  the  cotillion. 
Slack  was  receiving  Mrs.  Pendleton's  congratula- 
tions; and  Millie  was  looking  askance  at  the 
wearer  of  the  pink  dress.  Fenton  walked  lei- 
surely up  the  hill  and  paused  in  front  of  the  dan- 
cers. 

"  My  good  friends,"  he  said,  "  I  have  not  been 
invited.  When  I  knew  Miss  Blair  in  New 
York—" 

His  voice  was  drowned  by  the  threatening  ex- 
clamations which  arose  from  the  men. 

Mr.  Featherly  had  approached  unnoticed,  and 
walking  forward  quickly,  stood  before  Fenton 
just  as  John  was  about  to  rush  toward  him. 

"  Mr.  Featherly !  "  John  and  Hester  spoke  the 
name  at  the  same  moment. 

The  color  left  Hester's  cheek  and  she  stood  mo- 
tionless, her  eyes  fixed  on  the  old  man's  face.  He 
held  up  his  hand  to  restrain  John,  then  turned 
to  Fenton,  who  seemed  overcome  with  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Stop,"  Featherly  said  to  John,  "  before  I  an- 
swer him,  allow  me  to  make  a  statement.  Miss 
Blair,"  he  said  turning  to  Hester,  "  I  recently 
discovered  among  my  son's  private  papers,  evi- 
dence that  he  had  been  married  while  he  lived 
in  Norton.  I  have  here  the  church  records.  I 
can  decipher  his  name  on  a  partly  burned  page, 


"I — I  cannot  say." 


Love's  Reward  345 

but  the  name  of  his  wife  is  wholly  destroyed. 
Can  you  tell  me  whose  it  is?  " 

A  wave  of  emotion  swept  over  Hester,  leaving 
her  face  colorless.  She  tried  to  speak,  but  the 
words  seemed  to  die  on  her  parched  tongue.  The 
eyes  of  the  villagers  were  fixed  upon  her  face,  and 
they  waited,  breathless  and  silent,  for  her  an- 
swer. She  looked  about  her  in  a  vacant  manner. 
The  faces  seemed  to  swim  in  a  sea  of  mist  before 
her  eyes,  until,  with  an  effort,  her  gaze  came 
back  to  the  face  of  the  old  man,  who  was  stand- 
ing in  a  waiting  attitude.  She  made  an  attempt 
to  speak  and  paused;  then,  shaking  her  head, 
uttered  in  a  feeble  voice : 

"  I — I  cannot  say." 

A  jeering  laugh  from  Fenton  broke  the  spell 
that  had  settled  on  the  villagers.  They  started, 
and  looked  at  him. 

"  What  a  pity !  "  he  said  sneeringly.  "  If  Miss 
Blair  only  could  have  had  a  marriage  certificate. 
That's  a  very  necessary  requisite  when  there  is* 
a  marriage.  Too  bad !  " 

In  the  life  of  every  human  being  there  is  some 
moment  when  they  enter  the  domain  of  manhood 
or  womanhood.  It  may  be  at  a  time  of  extreme 
peril,  of  some  unforeseen  emergency  arising;  or 
of  some  acute  joy  or  overwhelming  sorrow,  when 
they  emerge  from  childhood,  and  discover  a 
power  within  them,  whose  secret  growth  had 
been  so  slow  and  still,  that  they  were  unconscious 


346  Hester  Blair 

of  it,  and  were  startled  at  its  sudden  awakening. 
It  came  to  Sally  Pitts  at  that  instant,  and,  af- 
frighted at  her  own  importance,  with  eyes  bulg- 
ing from  their  sockets,  she  stood  before  Mr. 
Featherly — a  woman. 

Sally  fumbled  at  the  ribbon  about  her  neck, 
and  with  a  vigorous  pull,  it  snapped,  and  she 
held  in  her  hand  a  little  bag.  She  looked  about 
her  in  a  startled  way,  but  no  thought  ever  crossed 
her  mind  to  hesitate,  or  to  swerve  from  her  pur- 
pose. The  time  had  come  for  her  to  speak,  and 
speak  she  would,  even  though  the  whole  world 
stood  still  to  listen.  She  cast  a  half-frightened 
look  at  Hester  and  spoke,  slowly  and  distinctly. 
She  was  not  Sally  Pitts,  the  little  cripple,  she 
was  Miss  Sally  Pitts  and  she  would  be  heard, 
and  of  those  who  were  surprised,  none  were  more 
so  than  her  father. 

"  Here  is  the  certificate,"  she  said,  taking  the 
paper  out  of  the  bag.  "  I  saw  Miss  Hessie  drop 
it  in  the  church.  I  was  there  and  I  picked  it  up. 
I  was  afraid  to  tell  her.  I  saw  her  get  married 
to  Mr.  Featherly,  and  I  was  so  frightened  and 
I— I—" 

Sally  got  no  further.  Hester's  arms  were 
around  her  neck  and  they  were  both  crying  to- 
gether and  rocking  to  and  fro.  Myria  Belinda 
Gates  could  not  find  her  handkerchief,  and  re- 
sorted to  one  corner  of  her  pink  over-skirt,  which 
she  stuffed  into  her  eyes.  Mrs.  Bagly  sniffled, 


Love's  Reward  347 

whether  from  joy  or  sorrow,  will  never  be  known. 
Between  her  tears  she  managed  to  gasp : 

"  There,  Sary  Dunn,  I  allus  said  as  how  I  knew 
Hessie  was  as  innocent  as  a  babe." 

Hester  was  kneeling  beside  Sally.  Mr.  Feath- 
erly  raised  her  gently. 

"  My  daughter,  can  you  forgive  me?  " 

"  It  is  easy  to  forgive  you,"  Hester  replied, 
"  for  I  have  never  blamed  you." 

"  Why  did  you  remain  silent  so  long?  " 

"  I  had  given  my  promise." 

"  A  sort  of  family  reunion  as  it  were,"  sneered 
Fenton.  "  Sorry  I  can't  remain  for  the  love- 
feast," 

"  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Featherly,  "  I  know  you 
now  for  what  you  are.  We  want  no  trouble  here 
to-day." 

Fenton  turned  to  leave.  "  Au  revoir,"  he  said 
with  a  smile. 

"  My  dear  Fenton,  nothing  like  being  in  at  the 
finish." 

It  was  Mrs.  Pendleton's  voice.  It  was  not  like 
her  to  say  it,  but  she  should  be  forgiven. 

Mr.  Featherly  turned  to  John : 

"  Mr.  Gary,  your  uncle,  whom  I  have  known 
for  the  past  forty  years,  tells  me  that  you  are 
going  to  South  America.  Hester,  my  daughter, 
I  know  John's  story.  Will  you  let  him  go?  " 

John  did  not  speak  but  looked  into  her  eyes. 
She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 


348  Hester  Blair 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  will  you  go?  " 
"  No,"  he  replied,  "  not  if  you  wish  me  to  re- 
main." 
"  I  do,"  she  answered. 

The  stars  twinkled  knowingly,  and  the  unob- 
servant moon  sailed  away  into  unknown  realms 
to  reflect  on  lovers'  confidences  entrusted  to  its 
passionless  keeping.  John  and  Hester  sat  on 
the  lover's  bench  on  the  bluff.  The  sound  of 
the  forceful  dance  music  was  deadened  by  thej 
laughter  of  the  merry-makers.  Japanese  lan- 
terns made  a  fantastic  attempt  at  illumination, 
and  looked  like  night  birds  of  brilliant  plumage, 
perched  on  the  old  gnarled  boughs  of  the  orchard. 
The  sea  sighed  in  languid  delight,  and  the  mys- 
terious whisperings  of  the  night  were  hushed  to 
listen  to  the  lovers. 

"  Tell  me  again,  Hester  darling,  that  you  are 
happy." 

"  Ah,  John  dear,"  came  the  response,  "  God  is 
very  good." 

The  curtain  of  the  night  deepened,  and  the  sea 
took  up  the  refrain,  "  God  is  very  good,"  and 
sang  it  through  all  eternity. 


THE  END 


The  Most  Talked  About  Book  of  the  Day 

BLENNERHASSETT 

A  THRILLING    ROMANCE 

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This  is  not  an  historical  novel  in  any  sense  of  the  word. 
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musketeer — a  sort  of  United  States  Don  Caesar — who  rules 
our  country  as  President-General.  He  leads  a  mighty  army 
through  conquering  wars,  taking  valuable  possessions  from 
the  British,  Spanish  and  French.  Everything  he  under- 
takes is  for  love  of  country.  He  is  the  people's  idol.  A 
love  adventure  is  of  the  same  importance  to  him  as  an 
affair  of  state,  and  he  slights  neither. 

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IIN 


TITO 

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"  After  he  left  the  club,  he  valked 
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clothing,  he  donned  a  faded  suit— he 
looked  anything  but  the  elegantly 
dressed  club  man  who  entered — Hor- 
ace Vanburg  had  disappeared  when  he 
entered  his  home  ;  it  was  Horace  Kent 
that  hurried  off  into  the  darkness — 
paused  before  modern  tenement  block 
— entered — Mother  Raberfeti  held  up 
a  warning  finger  and  addressed  him  in 
Italian — "  she  is  very  low.  The  child 
was  born  dead — and  the  child — sh —  " 
the  doctor  looked  nervously  toward  the 
sick  room — the  old  woman  grasped 
the  arm  of  her  companion  and  said  : 
"  I  told  her  the  child  was  dead — 
what  harm  can  come  ?  " 


Tito  was  the  Child 


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